


He's Funny That Way

by midnitekween



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Family, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Claiming Bites, Come as Lube, Crying orgasm, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Omega Steve Rogers, Pec-Fucking, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Rough Sex, Rutting, SHIELD is not HYDRA, Sharon is not Peggy Carter's niece, Spit As Lube, Spy!Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnitekween/pseuds/midnitekween
Summary: Steve works through his depression and PTSD with therapy, learns how to be a true leader within The Avengers, and in the meantime, falls head over heels for a tattooed S.H.I.E.L.D spy/assassin, alias: "Bucky."





	1. Island of Misfit Toys

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

Prologue

* * *

They’re in the [common room](https://img.purch.com/o/aHR0cDovL3d3dy5uZXdzYXJhbWEuY29tL2ltYWdlcy9pLzAwMC8xMzcvMzgxL2kwMi9hZ2VvZnVsdHJvbm15c3Rlcnl3b21hbi0wMi5qcGc=), bloody and bruised, covered in dirt and dust. Tony’s making stupid jokes about the Hulk to Banner that are cracking Clint up. Natasha cracks open a few beers and hands one to Tony, then Clint. She flops onto the leather couch taking a satisfying sip of her own.

Steve tosses his cowl on the coffee table and sits next to Natasha. She places her feet in his lap and hands over her beer.

“Alright there, Rogers,” she asks.

“Sore,” Steve replies, taking a satisfying swig of her Bud Light. “Jesus. That’s like water.”

Natasha chuckles. “Ran out of the fancy German stuff. I’ll get some later.”

J.A.R.V.I.S announces that Nick Fury and Maria Hill are in the elevator with strike team CO Barnes, requesting access.

“I would love a congratulatory hug from Nick Fury,” Tony quips. “Access granted.”

The elevator doors open and in walks the two of them and CO Barnes who looks just as battled as the rest of them.

“Clean-up crew is handling the mess, and first responders are getting civilians to hospitals and setting up emergency medic centers for those they can’t,” Fury tells them.

“So, the Izoites, they’re all gone? We got them all?” Banner asks.

“Far as we can tell.”

“Well, then I say these beers are well-deserved. In fact, I think we should break out the fancy stuff. I got a bottle of [Blue Label](https://habbybev.com/products/johnniewalker-blue) back there somewhere,” Tony mentions, nodding toward the bar. “Care for a nip, Fury? Swear I won’t tell anyone I saw you partaking in the Devil’s nectar.”

They laugh. Even Steve.

“Yeah, it’s real fucking funny,” Sgt. Barnes snaps, face stone-cold, tone sharp.

And the room grows quiet...

“You idiots didn’t save anything, so I have no clue as to why you’re celebrating.”

Clint sits up. “Whoa, bud. I don’t know if you were there or not—”

“I was.”

“—but we did, in fact, save the day. There were googly-eyed aliens trying to take over the planet, and we stomped their asses into the ground. You heard Fury.”

“Yeah, I was standing here when he patted your soft heads and said ‘job well done’.”

“You’re out of line, Barnes,” Fury growls.

“No. No, I don’t think so. Not after what I saw.”

“And what is it you think you saw,” Steve asks, half curious, half irritated, because Steve knows his job. Knows it and does it well. It’s why not even two weeks out of the ice was he thrown into another war. Instead of Hydra Nazis, it was aliens that time. And this time. He’s a soldier, like Barnes. He either follows orders or he leads. And with the Avengers, he leads. For the last 2 days he’s led his team to victory against another attack.

“A bunch of high-on-ego superheroes wreck more havoc around them than the damn invaders,” Barnes answers.

“People get hurt when we do our jobs sometimes,” Tony chimes in. “We try to avoid that, but sometimes we can’t.”

“That’s because you have no clue how to function as a unit.”

Steve’s personally offended now. “Excuse me?”

“I think that’s enough, Barnes,” Maria interrupts. “We only came up here for a short debriefing. Not to start a fight.”

Steve hands Natasha her beer back. “No, I’d like to hear the rest of what CO Barnes has to say.”

Barnes chuckles wryly. “’_The greatest tactician of our lives_’… Bullshit. All I saw was you running head-first into a bunch of lose-lose situations that would’ve gotten a sane man killed. The only reason you weren’t is because Natasha was too busy watching your six when she should’ve have been taking out the mothership.”

“He’s my teammate. Мой друг,” Natasha tells him.

“But those weren’t your orders! And because you didn’t follow them, too busy trying to rescue your suicidal friend, a fucking building fell on two of my guys and civilians were crushed under a pile of rubble! I trained you, Natasha. You know better.”

Steve’s never seen her express anything more than slight amusement other than her usual stoicism. Therefore, the momentary glimmer of shame on her face is something he finds more than a little surprising. And also telling. If Natasha is feeling guilty, embarrassed by her actions, then maybe Barnes’ rant is a little more than deserved...

Tony slams his beer down on the coffee table and gets to his feet. He’s still in his [suit](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Iron_Man_Armor:_Mark_XLV), singed and dirty. “Okay. Fury and Hill are right, that’s enough out of you, soldier boy.”

“You’re the worst by the way. You've got a wife and kids, but there you were, showing off like it’s a goddamn air show. Clint got pinned behind a taxi and it took you 7 minutes to get to him; too preoccupied with picking off aliens for a high score to notice. And from what I understand, the reason these creatures even showed up here was because of you. The Izoites were here because of your obsessive, self-serving bullshit.”

Steve can see Tony dying to be snarky, but he swallows it down because Barnes is right. Tony knowingly stole a piece of their tech, using it for his own curious purposes, and it seems the Izoites were offended enough to invade Earth to get it back.

“I think your point has been made, my friend,” Thor scowls.

“And don’t get me started on you, buddy… You and the big, green guy caused more structural damage than a hurricane. While we were still trying to get people out. First priority is to always, _always_, get civilians to safety.” He looks to Steve, “You know that, Rogers. Or at least you should.” Steve tries to hold his glare but can’t. His eyes shift, lowering to the carpet. “How in the fuck do you people think you’re heroes? How can you call yourselves that? I know that stealth, strategy, and recon aren’t high up on your list of duties, but are you kidding me? I know you’re not soldiers, but you’re barely a team. You don’t move as one. You don’t care as one. You’re in your own heads with your own goals. You’re children in a food fight, and because of your crap, people needlessly died, homes and sanctuaries were destroyed, and now me and my guys and a bunch of underpaid city workers have to clean up your mess while you get a parade! None of you have to knock on someone’s door and tell them their kid’s not coming home because the Avengers were too busy kicking ass! You assholes get to sit in your [ivory tower](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Avengers_Tower), drink cheap beer, and pat yourselves on the back.” Barnes turns to Fury. “And you let them.”

“I let my guys do their jobs. And in doing so, they keep things from getting worse. You may not like their methods, sergeant, but they get the damn job done,” Fury tells him. “And I think you’ve talked enough about things above your pay grade.”

“Don’t worry. I’m done.”

And with that Barnes leaves, taking the elevator down and out of Avengers Tower, leaving Steve with a heavy, sludge feeling in his gut.

Tony scoffs. “Well, that kitty’s got claws.”

“Shut up, Tony,” Natasha snaps. “…Steve. You o—”

Steve bolts from the common room to the bathroom. He’s going to be sick.

∞∞∞

Steve’s taped hands pound the heavy bag, fist after fist. He’s been in the gym for almost 2 hours now, covered in sweat but barely out of breath.

[One good punch](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/SinfulLegitimateFossa-size_restricted.gif) and he sends the bag across the room, bursting with sand!

“…Fuck.”

Steve rolls his stiff neck and contemplates grabbing another heavy bag, but a slight shadow catches out of the corner of his eye. She’s as quiet as a church mouse, but he hears her anyway. He unwinds the tape from his swollen knuckles, back to her as he closes and opens his fist.

“You think I want to die.”

“I think it’s hard for you to be here. Alone,” she replies.

“Same thing, Nat.” He turns to her. “It’s why you watch my back.”

“Someone’s got to.” She takes a seat on the bench by the boxing ring. “We don’t do a very good job of looking out for each other. Barnes is right; we’re not team. We’re not…family.”

“That’s my fault.”

“It’s all our faults, Steve. We need to be better. If we want to do good, we have to be better. …And if you want to stay here, with us, I’d like that.”

“Where else would I go?”

“Don't. You know what I mean.”

Steve never thought he had a death wish. He knew the dark, swirling thoughts in his head would get a little too loud sometimes, but he never thought of himself as suicidal. He’d always been a little reckless, impulsive. Maybe even a little dangerous, especially for an Omega, but never determined to die. Yet, Barnes words cut through him like a hot knife through butter. He’d only known the man for 48 hours, only fought one battle with him, but it was so easy for him to see Steve’s actions, his motivations, for what they really were. As some sort of cry for help. And Steve hates that. He hates that a stranger, some random Alpha, let alone another soldier, was able to climb over the wall he’s built, the façade, and see him so clearly.

“How long have you known Barnes?”

“He trained me, like he said. Once S.H.I.E.L.D deprogrammed me. When I got good enough, Fury partnered me with Clint, for espionage gigs. So, a while. I’ve known him a while.”

“He’s an Alpha.”

“He’s not like that. That dress-down he gave us wasn’t him posturing. He was really angry. Upset. He cares. Like you.”

The unspooled tape from his hands flitters to the floor. “I do want to be here,” he says softly. “I just…” Steve fights back tears he hadn’t even realized were pooling in his eyes. He clears his throat. “I just don’t know how. With everything I lost.”

Natasha pushes off the bench and walks to him. “I think it starts with you admitting that, Steve.”

“The only way I know how to be of this world is to fight…but I’m so tired. I’ve been asleep for 70 years, but I’m still so goddamn tired.” The burning behind his eyes returns. This time he lets the tears fall down his sweaty face.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve. You don’t have to be Captain America.”

He sniffles; chuckles dryly. “Then what would I do? Who would I be?”

“Whatever you want. Whoever you want.” She takes his hands into hers. “And you don’t have to figure that out now. You also don’t have to do it alone. I know we’re not the Howling Commandos, or Peggy, but we’ll be there for you, if you let us.”

She squeezes his hands. He squeezes back, face stained with tears.

“How do I… I don’t know how to…”

She gives him a little smile. “I think first, you, me, and the rest of ‘[The Island of Misfit Toys](https://www.google.com/search?q=The+Island+of+Misfit+Toys&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&oq=The+Island+of+Misfit+Toys&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i64l2.96224j0j9&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8)’ need to have a talk. And then we’ll take it from there. Whatever happens next, we’ll be there for each other. That much I do know.”

Steve nods. He believes her. Trusts her. And it honestly might be the first time he has…


	2. Designation Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's therapist gives him a little homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

(2 ½ YEARS LATER…)

* * *

They enter [Steve’s apartment](https://www.planete-deco.fr/2017/06/11/du-gris-sous-les-toits/), fresh from their jog. Natasha’s not much of a runner; she likes to spar mostly, but after seven sparing sessions in a row, he’s managed to convince her to switch it up a bit for their daily, morning workout, and go jogging around [Prospect Park](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prospect_Park_\(Brooklyn\)) with him. Steve slowed down a bit for her to maintain pace with him and so they could chat. Which has ultimately lead to their current conversation:

“I’m just saying, you should consider it. She’s your therapist and wouldn’tve suggested it if she didn’t think you were ready,” Natasha insists.

Steve sighs. “I don’t know, Nat.” He grabs a [protein shake](https://www.premierprotein.com/products/strawberries-cream-shake/) and bottle of water from his fridge. He hands her the water and twist the cap off the strawberries and cream shake, taking a big gulp. “It just feels too…sudden.”

“She’s not telling you to go out and get yourself claimed. She just wants you to go on one date. One measly, coffee date for a couple of hours. It won’t kill you.”

“Famous last words,” Steve chuckles.

“She was right about you needing your own identity, own space. You’ve been in this apartment for the last 6 months and it’s been good for you. So, she’s not handing out bad advice.”

“That’s not it. I know it might be good for me, but I… I want someone to say ‘yes’ to a date with Steve Rogers. Not Captain America. And I’m afraid I’ll find out after almost 75 years, no one still wants to date that guy.”

“Steve, you’re a 6’4, hot blond Omega. Everyone wants to date you.”

“And that’s the other thing: no one but you guys and Fury know my real designation. How do I tell somebody I’m not really an Alpha?”

“You don’t have to share something that personal right away, Steve. That type of information is only if you start dating someone and find out you like them enough to want to be serious.” He nods, but still has a worried frown on his face. “They’re not going to know. Your suppressants stall your heats and covers your scent. It’ll be fine, Steve. Do your homework.” She slips off the barstool at his kitchen island. “And now, I have to do mine.”

Steve smiles, always happy to oblige.

“I would like a hug," she says.

Each of The Avengers sees their own therapist apart from the appointed group therapist they see together, provided (and mandated) by S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha’s therapist gave her “homework” 7 months ago, to ask for affection from the people around her, whether it be a pat on the back, kiss on the cheek, or a hug. She was also tasked with giving affection back. It took time, but Steve will always remember the day they were walking through a crowded street and she curled her hand around his elbow as they maneuvered through people to their train. When they sat on the subway car, she held his hand lightly until Steve squeezed back and they found themselves leaning a little closer to one another the whole ride to the Tower.

Steve had thought he was the only touch-starved one in their group, but as time moved on, he came to realize it wasn’t just him; Natasha and Bruce were also in desperate need of care and friendliness. The three of them over the last few weeks have found themselves grazing one another with the occasional touch, reminding each other of what the warmth of skin-on-skin feels like when it’s not a punch or a kick.

Her arms wrap ‘round his waist. Her smaller height allows her to tuck into him with her head buried in his chest. He squeezes her around her shoulders, both of them holding on tight longer than a hug would normally last. They always bask into each other longer than normal, relishing in their shared contact, reminding themselves that they deserve to have someone care about them like this.

She playfully scratches his back, her signal that she’s ready to pull away, and to let Steve know he’s losing her fondness.

“If you need help finding that coffee date, let me know.”

“I think I’ve suffered enough at the hands of your matchmaking, thank you.”

She flips him off as she walks out the door.

* * *

Steve thinks hard about this whole coffee date thing. A few times he’s wanted to ask out someone he’s interacted with while running errands, or someone working at Stark Industries when he visits Tony and Banner, or the cute girl with pink hair and green eyes that get big and bright whenever he picks up his sandwich order ([Reuben](https://www.spendwithpennies.com/reuben-sandwich/) with salt-and-vinegar chips) from the deli at the end of his block.

But he settles on Sharon Carter. “Settles” is a bad word. More like “decides.” He ultimately decides to ask out agent Sharon Carter. She’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that was transferred to the Avengers Tower as part of Steve’s detail last year. She’s pretty, with a nice smile, and talks a great deal with Steve about art and poetry they’ve enjoyed. She’s friendly and doesn’t talk to Steve like all he is is Captain America. So, he gives it a go and asks her out:

“I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.”

“You would?”

She nods.

“G-Great. How about Sunday? Around lunch time? Noon?”

“That’s perfect.”

Steve blushes. “Great.”

“Where?”

“Pardon?”

“Where do you want to get coffee?”

“Oh, um… Where do you normally get coffee?”

“There’s a Starbucks near my place, if that’s alright?”

Steve hates Starbucks. The lines are always too long, the customers always too impatient, and the coffee always too weak for his taste. “Starbucks is good.”

She smiles. “Cool.”

“Okay, well…”

“Y-Yeah. I’ll, uh, see you Sunday.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. On Sunday.”

They do that awkward step dance as they try to get around one another, headed in opposite directions. Steve laughs nervously before Sharon puts her hands on his shoulders, stilling him, as she cuts around him and toward the elevators. He watches her step onto the lift and smiles as she disappears inside.

He asked a girl out, and she said ‘yes’.

* * *

Sharon’s early, which he appreciates. She’s sitting on a tufted, brown leather couch near the back, waiting for him in a pair of blue jeans and simple, white top. Her hair is up in a messy bun and there’s a nice piece of[ turquoise jewelry](https://www.etsy.com/listing/684820003/turquoise-necklace-for-women-blue-big?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=turquoise+necklace&ref=sr_gallery-1-15&frs=1) around her thin neck. She looks cute.

Steve reaches to shake her hand but she greets him with an easy kiss on the cheek that makes him blush way too quickly. He takes a seat beside her on the couch. “I expected it to be a lot busier in here than it is.”

“Normally it’s crazy in here but I think with it being such a nice day, people decided to expand their cool drink options beyond iced coffee.”

“Makes since. The weather’s good for Spring just starting.”

She smiles. “Steve? You really want to sit here and talk about the weather?”

He chuckles. “No. No, I want to talk about… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m not much for dating.”

“Where you, before?”

“No. I-I got lucky…with Peggy. God, knows what she saw in me, but she saw something… But before her, not really.”

“Well, I promise to make this as painless as possible.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Good. Now, take off your shirt. Come on. Show me some supersoldier skin.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows lift to his hairline. “E-Excuse m-me?”

She’s laughing at the look on his face. “I’m teasing you.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling nervously at her joke. “I thought you said you’d make this whole thing painless.”

“And I will, but I had to say something that’ll break the ice.”

“Smart.”

“I tend to be. Sometimes.”

“I’ve had talks with you about French architecture and Walt Whitman’s influence on Lawrence Ferlinghetti. You’re smart more than sometimes.”

“I was trying to be humble.”

“I’ve heard you brag though.”

“When?”

“When you told Clint and Natasha you were better shots than them.”

“I am.”

“Natasha Romanov is never going to let a comment like that just roll off her back.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

“And I cannot wait to see it unfold. You know I can’t root for you, don’t you?”

“Your cheerleading, Capt. Rogers, will not be necessary.”

“Well, then I’ll simply wish you luck when that day should come.”

“You may keep your luck as well, noble sir.”

Steve laughs. A genuine, good laugh that has Sharon joining in with him. _Not a bad start_, he thinks. Their small talk has turned to a casual sort of flirting and then into laughter. He’s proud of his baby steps.

He relaxes into the plush furniture as Sharon brings her feet up, tucked under her.

“So, what awful piece of pop culture is Stark trying to inundate you with this week,” she asks.

Steve grimaces. “Right now it’s Harry Potter.”

Sharon laughs. “Boy wizards and magical schools not your thing?”

“I like more adult-oriented things. Natasha gave me the book series, _[The Magicians](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Magicians_\(Grossman_novel\))_. She said it’s like Harry Potter for adults, so I’ve been reading that instead.”

“I can see that. I haven’t read any of the books, but I love the show.”

“There’s a TV show?”

“Yup. And it’s really good. When you’re done the books I’ll watch the show with you.”

Steve smiles at the prospect of spending more time with Sharon. Their coffee date is going well so far; Sharon is pleasant and easy to talk to. Steve doesn’t want to jump the gun, but he can admittedly see them possibly getting to know one another a bit more in the future. Maybe his therapist was right: he can start over, move forward, here, in this life, if he tries.

“That sounds like fun.”

* * *

“I have to break up with Sharon,” Steve tells Sam and Natasha.

“Why,” they ask, faces full of shock at his announcement.

“She’s an Omega.”

“She told you her designation,” Sam asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah. Yesterday. When we went for a walk in the park.”

“Such an old man date,” Sam chuckles under his breath.

Natasha swats his arm, chastising him for the comment. “Did you tell her yours,” Nat asks, putting down her chopsticks, giving Steve her full attention.

“I didn’t want to lie, but I wasn’t ready to share that with her. Especially after she told me she was an Omega.”

“How did this conversation come about,” Sam asks.

Steve pushes around the [seaweed salad](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwj5g6uW64HkAhXpHjQIHaXuCI8Qjhx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fglutensugardairyfree.com%2Frecipe-items%2Fseaweed-salad%2F&psig=AOvVaw0_CRcmK0EwDnc5Ig1Y7PkK&ust=1565854066155471) on his tray. To a normal person he looks pensive as he plays with his food, but to spies and heroes like Natasha and Sam, they know he’s looking around for eavesdroppers. He leans in, whispering, “We agreed to take it slow, and we have been, but yesterday she said she wanted to talk. She said she wanted to go further in our relationship, ‘take it to the next level’, I think she said, and she asked if I was ready to have sex.”

“Girl’s got needs,” Natasha teases with a lift of one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“I said maybe. And that’s when she told me her designation.”

“So, if you didn’t lie, and you didn’t tell her the truth, what did you say,” Sam asks carefully.

“I thanked her for telling me but said I’m not ready to have that conversation yet. She seemed a little disappointed, but okay with giving me more time.” Steve sighs, disappointed. “I really thought she was an Alpha…”

“Told you to let me peek through her med files for you.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because going through your girlfriend’s medical records is a great way to start a relationship.”

Sam joined the team as a part-time Avenger last year after being found by Fury, and instantly became Steve’s closet friend on (and off) the team, next to Natasha. Sam, as a fellow soldier, quickly integrated himself into the sextet, and Steve found himself drawn to the jovial man with the easy smile and always available listening ear.

Sam gets things about Steve, and being a soldier, that even Natasha can’t seem to understand at times. There’s a friendly forbearance in sharing with Sam that Steve’s never gotten from anyone else. Where Natasha pokes and prods, Sam merely sits back and waits until you’re comfortable enough to unload. It’s a bond, camaraderie, that Steve hasn’t experienced since fighting with The Howling Commandos. And if he’s being honest, it’s even a little more intimate than that. Because before the serum, Steve hadn’t had what he has now with Sam— a genuine friend.

“Somebody’s got to vet your dates. The way you boys date… Whoo.”

“Sharon has been my first and only date since being out of the ice. And I’ve only been seeing her for 3 months.”

“I meant this one,” she points to Sam, “Thor, and Rhodes. You should see the skanks I background check for Thor.”

Steve nearly chokes on his sake.

“Regardless, Steve,” Sam says, trying to get their conversation back on track, “I understand you wanting to break things off with Sharon.”

“You do,” Steve asks, surprised. He wipes his mouth and chin with a napkin.

“You’re not sexually compatible. And sex is an important part of any relationship, whether having it, connecting, or the lack thereof. Sex is a major factor in two people bonding. It's why Alphas can’t sync with other Alphas. And the same with Omegas and Omegas. It sucks. Sharon is a nice girl and you like her, but I don’t know about it working out in the future, man.”

Natasha huffs. “You make it sound like they can no longer be in the same room together. I say screw designation and see if you and Sharon can’t make a go of it.”

“I’d like to, Nat, but I think Sam’s right. The minute we’re in bed together, we’d know that it wouldn’t work out. And sex is… Sex is different for Omegas.”

“Alphas, too,” she adds.

“Exactly. It’s why Alphas and Omegas make the best pairs.” Sam gives him a look. “The most sexual compatible,” he amends, but Sam still looks a little sour at the comment.

“Steve. Are you sure you want to end things with Sharon?”

“I want us to be friends at least. I like spending time with her. It’s just… Since her telling me she’s an Omega, I’m kind of…not…that…sexually…attracted to her…anymore.”

“Oh, my god, Steve! Are you kidding me?!”

“Calm down, Natasha,” Sam tells her, fighting back laughter.

“No. Do you know how many rants I’ve had to listen to from this guy about Omega stereotypes and now he wants to dump a girl, a girl he liked, the second he finds out she can’t grip him or claim him?!”

“I don’t mean to be a hypocrite! It’s just… Look, as much as I hate the idea of people thinking Omegas are just a bunch of submissive sluts waiting to be bred and owned, I—”

“Can’t wait to be bred and owned,” Natasha asks, cheekily.

“No. I want to be with someone that at least has the capability to do those things…if I want them.”

“Which you do.”

Steve tries his hardest not to turn seven shades of red.

“Steve,” Sam starts, “Ignore the tiny red-haired one. She’s like an angry chihuahua.” Natasha smacks Sam ‘round his head. He doesn’t even flinch, which is impressive. “Do you want to continue a relationship with Sharon? Do you think you could?”

“…No.”

“Then don’t string the girl along.”

“I don’t… I’ve never broken up with someone before… How do I do that?” Natasha readies to say something, but Steve cuts her off—“Without lying.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that…outright.” Steve fixes her with a look. “Just a skirt around the truth.”

“Just simply tell her you’re not as ready for a relationship as you thought you were, but you want to remain friends,” Sam advises.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s good.”

“Honest, but vague enough to were you’re not giving your designation away.”

“For the record, that was totally going to be my suggestion,” Natasha lets them know. “Just saying.”

Steve shakes his head at his friends and grabs a [makizushi roll](https://matcha-jp.com/en/3674) from the [sushi boat](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/de/04/6d/de046d3a58f47a8b2a8603a81c84c76a.jpg) and pops it into his mouth_._

* * *

“Is it my fault? Did I push,” Sharon asks.

“No. God, no.” Steve takes a seat beside her on the couch. He likes her place. It’s a cute, [studio apartment](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cc/8d/54/cc8d547a5b891c6a4a8381e7d9cf85d3.jpg) with the living area and bedroom separated by a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf divider. Which would feel cramped, but Sharon’s done a good job of utilizing the space. There are plants everywhere, the couch sits against a painted wall, and [Yankee Stadium](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yankee_Stadium) can be seen from the window. ‘it’s just…I’m not ready to be serious with anyone right now. I thought I was, but I think I still need some time. My therapist wanted me to try dating, and I did. You were a great girlfriend, Sharon. I’m sorry I’m not exactly a good boyfriend though.”

“What are you talking about, Steve? You’re probably the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is unfortunately. When people find out you’re an Omega they treat you different. They expect you to act a certain way, and when you don’t, they think they need to put you in your place.”

Steve’s familiar with that area of treatment all too well. It wasn’t until Peggy that he even began to wholly trust anyone with an ‘Alpha’ designation. Aside from his mother.

“You weren’t like that. You treated me like a person. With my own feelings and agency. Means a lot.”

“I had that once with someone. A long time ago. The way she saw me, understood me… Sometimes I think I’ll never find that again.”

“Not going to lie, I’m a little sad you don’t think I can be that for you... But maybe you’ll find it in someone else. Maybe it’ll be 100x better than what you had with Peggy.”

Steve chuckles lightly. “I hope not.”

Her head tilts at him, curious. “Why?”

“What I had with [Peggy](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Peggy_Carter) felt like a million butterflies in my stomach, constantly. She left me breathless half the time. I don’t know what I’d do if I fell in love any harder than that.”

“Well, I hope you do. You deserve it.”

“So do you.”

Sharon stands up, looking expectedly at him. Steve pops up from the couch. She hugs him.

“This isn’t ‘goodbye’. We’ll still see each other at the Tower, and S.H.I.E.L.D. We’ll still be friends. Right,” Steve asks. He pulls them apart, looking at her with an adorable amount of hope on his face.

Sharon can’t help it. She giggles. He looks like such a sad, little puppy. “Of course, Steve.” She kisses his cheek. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 next week!
> 
> p.s.-- I love comments, and promise to reply :)


	3. Agent Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and a familiar face meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

Steve blocks his elbow, grabbing his wrist, and bringing it across his throat, chocking him with his own arm! Brock tries to kick Steve’s feet out, but Steve blocks him with his own, then sends a punch to the other man’s kidneys! Steve lets go with a shove and Brock stumbles forward. He quickly recovers, trying to take Steve out with a jumping back kick, but Steve grabs his leg mid-air, and punches Brock’s inner thigh! Brock falls back into the ropes! He charges; Steve flips him over his back! He lands hard on the mat! Steve climbs atop him, pinning his hands to the blue floor. And Brock…laughs. Almost like he’s fond of having Steve take him down.

Steve can’t help it and smiles back. He gets to his feet and offers Brock a hand up.

Brock takes it, but he doesn’t let go Steve’s hand once he’s on his feet. He grips it hard and yanks the blond closer. “What is it about you, Rogers?”

Steve runs a hand through his sweaty hair to get the fringe out of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…but there’s something…interesting about you.”

“I’m a 101-year-old science experiment. Of course I’m interesting,” Steve jokes.

Brock chuckles. “No. No, it’s other than that. More.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate, Rumlow.”

Brock bites his bottom lip. He’s considering something… It makes Steve furrow his brow, wondering what it is.

Brock finally drops Steve’s hand to rub at the back of his sticky neck, nervous and a little shy. It’s weird. Steve’s never seen Brock be anything other than calm, cool, and collected. Cocky even. Brutal, sometimes, on missions, and sneaky, when sparing with him, but never unsure of himself.

“Alright. Well, let me elaborate for you…over drinks.”

“Like… Like a date?”

“Um, yeah, Cap. Like a date.”

If he weren’t already flushed and perspiring from wrestling with the Strike Team leader, he’d certainly be beet red and breaking out in a panic sweat now.

“Hey, look, I’m not really attracted to other Alphas, because what would be the point, right? But you kind of… I don’t know. You kind of get something going in me,” Brock admits.

Brock’s a few inches shorter than Steve, with dyed black hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee that makes him look like every dirty cop in every action movie. His skin is tan, a little leathery from too much sun exposure (having grown up in LA his whole life), but his built is muscular and strong. And if you don’t count the whole suspended in animation thing, he’s actually older than Steve by about 7 years. But he has a nice smile. Perfect teeth that crack into a good laugh whenever he’s truly amused.

Plus, he’s an Alpha. Something he obnoxiously never fails to mention.

“What makes you think I’m an Alpha,” Steve teases.

“What else would the great Captain America be?” He gets dangerously close to Steve, leaving very little imagination as to what he wants from him. Other than late night drinks. “But if you weren’t, I’d—”

Brock doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought before the doors to the gym swing open with Maria Hill and Natasha entering with looks of urgency on their faces. Natasha’s wearing her Black Widow uniform.

Steve and Brock jump apart.

“What’s going on,” Steve asks.

“[von Strucker](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Wolfgang_von_Strucker),” Maria answers. “And the cybernetic dinosaurs he created.”

“Are you serious,” Brock asks.

“Do you not work here,” Natasha snarks at him.

“Rumlow get a team of 8 ready to go on a Quinjet in 10,” Steve instructs.

“Yes, sir.” Rumlow runs out of the gym on Steve’s orders.

“Where?”

“[Mt. Hood, Oregon](https://www.volcanodiscovery.com/mount_hood.html). We have intel that suggest he’s also looking to activate the volcano there, too.”

“The guy’s not boring, I’ll give him that,” Steve groans.

“Your personal villains never are,” Natasha smirks.

Steve grabs his shield. Maria and Natasha follow him hurriedly out of the gym.

∞∞∞

Steve’s uniform and compression shirt are slashed down the front with claw marks, partially exposing his massive pecs. He lost the cowl in between punching a [stegosaurus](https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/dino-directory/stegosaurus.html) then decapitating a [velociraptor](https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/dino-directory/velociraptor.html). Not to mention, the gash on his leg currently wrapped in bloody gauze.

Natasha is covered in mud and bruises, Tony’s more banged up than usual but still talkative as ever, whining about how hungry he is, Sam has a limp, but he’s nowhere near as bad as Clint, who caught a bullet through and through his right shoulder and is somehow missing a boot. Banner is passed out; the Hulk taking on a T-Rex armed with a metal, spiked tail exhausted him immediately when he transformed back. And Thor showed up at the last minute, saving their asses when he sent down lightning bolts that roasted every dino in their path to stopping the gurgling volcano. Steve managed to corner von Strucker, knocking him clean off his Nazi boots.

Maria is flying them back to the Tower. The strike team is on the other quinjet, headed for S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters with von Strucker in vibranium cuffs.

Steve’s exhausted and has a headache. The aspirin Maria gave him when they boarded the plane is doing very little to subside it, but the cold bottle of water he chugs helps a bit.

“We’re 20 miles out,” Maria announces.

“Thank god,” Sam espouses.

Steve watches as his friend lets his head fall back against the plane and close his eyes. _That looks like a good idea_. Steve folds his arms and leans his head back. He just about closes his eyes when—

“So what was that about,” Natasha asks him in a whisper.

“What was what?” Fuck it. He closes his eyes anyway.

“That very suspicious scene we interrupted between you and Rumlow.”

Steve’s eyes shoot open. He turns his head to the female Avenger. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Steve shrugs.

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Nat.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“He’s arrogant and a designation bigot.”

“That’s kind of harsh.”

“You don’t hear half the crap that comes out of his mouth because he knows better than to say it front of you, but Sharon’s told me what a dick he can be. Was he hitting on you?”

“Sharon said he’s a dick?”

“Yes. Answer my question.”

Steve sighs. He 100% does not want to discuss this. Especially right now. He’s tired, needs his wound properly taken care of, wants a shower, and wants something greasy and covered in cheese to eat. But he knows her, and having just fought cyborg dinosaurs be damned, she’d never let the opportunity to discuss Steve’s sex life go with unanswered questions.

“Yes, he hit on me. Asked me out for drinks.”

“And you clearly didn’t say ‘no’.”

“Didn’t say ‘yes’ either. I was interrupted, remember?”

“No, Steve.”

“Okay, mother.”

“You can do better than Rumlow. You _have_ done better than Rumlow.”

“I’m not trying to marry the guy.”

“And you shouldn’t entertain the idea of sleeping with him either.”

“Nat, I love you. But you don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot take to bed.”

“He’s gross, Steve. He’s not worth your time.”

“Is that not for me to figure out on my own, Romanov?”

She keeps quiet. He only calls her by her surname when he’s serious. And right now, he’s seriously telling her to back off, as politely as he can.

“…I just don’t want you hurt. That’s all.”

“…I know. But I’m a big boy. Figuratively and literally. I’ve handled pushy Alphas all my life. Especially when I was small. If I do entertain the idea of accepting Rumlow’s invitation, please trust that I won’t let him be inappropriate with me. In any way.”

She gives a resigned sigh, feeling as though she has no choice but to respect his request. “The second he gets out of line, I’m hurting him.”

He leans over and kisses her dirty forehead. “I know.”

* * *

Steve is discharged from the Avengers hospital on the 4th floor of the Tower two days later with only minor cuts and bruises. The only reason he was there so long was because the second his overexerted body laid down on the bed, he was out like a light, having slept the whole next day.

He’s just about to hail a cab back to his apartment, when some unfortunate peon of Fury’s approaches him and says Nick would like to speak with him. So, Steve finds himself in the back of an unmarked SUV, headed to [S.H.I.E.L.D HQ](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/S.H.I.E.L.D._Headquarters). When he gets out Maria Hill is in the lobby, waiting for him.

“All healed up,” she asks.

“All better. Still a little tired though,” he answers honestly.

He’s amazed how often he used to lie when asked that question.

“And Sam? Is he…okay?”

_Well, that’s…new._ She’s never asked about Sam before. Even when they were in the same room, she never really spoke to him. Steve takes a look at her, curious. Her eyes remain forward, and she bounces on her feet, like she’s nervous, as they wait for the elevator.

_Oh. Oh… Ohhhhh…_ Steve smiles to himself. _Hill has a crush on Sam! Wow._

“He’s good. Facetime’d with him before I checked out of the hospital. He’s going to be laid up for a couple more days but he’s fine. I’m going to go visit him after this whole secret meeting thing... Want to come?”

The elevator arrives and they enter. She presses for the top floor.

“Um, no. No, t-thank you, Captain Rogers. Just, uh, t-tell him I’m glad he’s okay. P-Please.”

He smiles at her when she chances a glance at him. “I will.”

She nods; cheeks as red as cherries.

They reach Fury’s office, which takes up the entire 40th floor. The one-eyed man is talking to someone when they come in. The other man has his back is to them, but Steve takes note of him being tall with short, dark brown hair, and wearing a black suit that hugs his frame nicely.

“Captain Rogers,” Nick Fury greets. Then man turns around and— “You remember Commanding Officer, Sgt. Barnes?”

Steve stops in his tracks. He hasn’t set eyes on Barnes since he tore The Avengers a new one, shaming them into therapy and team-building exercises. “…Yes.”

“Rogers,” James says, with a smirk.

“Commanding Officer Barnes is now _Agent_ Barnes, it seems,” Fury tells Steve, “and has been working deep undercover for the CIA for the last 2 years.”

“Explains why your warm presence was absent from S.H.I.E.L.D,” Steve snarks.

James chuckles, amused by Steve’s sarcasm. “Well, it was good to know I was missed.”

“Not particularly.”

“I gathered as much.”

“What am I doing here, Fury,” Steve asks.

“It would appear the CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D, and you, Captain Rogers, have a common enemy. And the National Security Council—which includes the President and Vice President, in case you didn’t know— would like for us all to play nice together in taking care of said enemy. Agent Barnes has been on the situation for the last 8 months. He’s here to help.”

“What’s the job,” Steve asks. Covert, secret missions always get the better of his curiosity.

“Helmut Zemo,” James answers. Steve’s eyes widen. “Know him?”

“We’ve meet once or twice.”

“Or a half dozen times,” Maria chimes in.

James grabs the thick file off Fury’s desk before the older man can reach it, and hands it to Steve. “Turns out this asshole is alive and well and graduated from militia rabble-rouser, to full-blown bio- terrorist. He’s got a crew of Sokovian henchmen, all former military like him, funding their operation by robbing banks across Europe. That surveillance photo was taken a year ago in Bucharest; he was caught on CC-TV getting into an unmarked vehicle outside a shoe repair shop. I think the store is a front and is actually the base of operations for him and his goons. I also have it on good authority that he’s planning on buying a biological weapon in two weeks.”

“Alright. What do you want the Avengers to do?”

“I don’t want the Avengers to do anything, but I would like for _you_ to come to Bucharest to help me take him and his whole maneuver down.”

Steve scoffs. “I… I’m a soldier. Not a spy. You need Natasha for a mission like this.”

“Trust me, I’d love to take _Natalia_, but she doesn’t know Zemo like you do. Hear he’s got a little crush on you.”

Maria snickers. Cap glares at her and she schools her face back into mild stoicism.

“He doesn’t have a crush on me. He just likes pissing me off. In particular.”

“He makes a show out of taunting you, daring you to come after him. That’s a crush.”

“And why you want me for this mission.”

“That, and you’re a soldier leading the most elite force in the world. Not to mention, you’re a strategist.”

Steve scowls. “Last time we spoke you said I wasn’t much of one.”

“At the time you weren’t.”

“And what’s different now?”

“Agent Barnes has been privy to footage and field reports of The Avengers latest undertakings. We’ve gotten better in his piercing, blue eyes,” Fury smarms, making a corner of Steve’s mouth twist up into a smirk. “Plus, he needs our help.”

“_My_ help,” Steve corrects, mostly at James.

James leans on Fury’s glass desk, making the director’s face turn up in a ‘How dare you’ frown. “You want me to say ‘sorry’? Tell you I was wrong about you guys?”

He’d actually really enjoy hearing that from the smug CO-turned-agent. Steve would smile gleefully listening to the man swallow his words, eating crow. But a coil in his chest tells him he couldn’t bear to hear him say it. Whether sincerely or not. “…No.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t going to. I meant what I said that day…but it doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.”

And there’s something shamefully desperate in Steve that wants to change James’ mind about his team. About him… If he’s honest, it might have something to do with Steve’s immediate attraction to James when they met nearly 3 years ago:

The brunet walked into The Avengers’ operation room in full tactical gear, carrying a sniper rifle, with war paint under his stone-blue eyes and 5 o’clock shadow on his chiseled face. It took Steve a solid 10 seconds to collect himself and continue with the debriefing. The only other Alpha he’s ever been that instantly drawn to was Peggy. James threw him in a matter of seconds, and Steve had no idea how to handle it at the time, aside from ignore it and press on. Then James yelled at them for being terrible at their jobs and Steve still didn’t know what to make of his interest in him.

“I don’t know how helpful I’ll be…” Steve tells him, unsure of himself all of a sudden.

“Would it help if I told you the plan?”

“What’s the plan?”

James smirks, and Steve is suddenly very nervous…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 next week! :)


	4. Incomplete Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps James and his CIA team disrupt a terrorist plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

Steve’s in a [luxury hotel room](http://www.dotwnews.com/modules/image_resize/image_resize.php?image=/uploads/posts/DRAWING-ROOM.jpg&width=860&height=468&cropratio=860:468) in Romania. [Bucharest](http://romaniatourism.com/bucharest.html). With James and his team: Wanda, a doe-eyed redhead acting as the medical/bioscience expert; Hope, a gossamer-looking brunette and “master of disguise;” Wade, a mouthy weapons and tactical expert; Darcy, a sultry, raven-haired young woman with incredible hacking and tech skills.

And then there’s Steve, the bait.

Natasha was beyond pissed when she found out Steve was to be used as such. She tore into James for 15 minutes, yelling in Russian, then pointing at his privates when she finished. She stormed off, dragging Steve with her. Steve’s about 90% certain she threatened to do something unspeakable to James’ penis if Steve should unfortunately wind up hurt during the mission. He’s never had a sister, but Steve’s pretty sure if he did, he’d want one like Natasha.

“Okay. How’s that look,” Hope asks, adjusting his clothes in the full-length mirror.

“It’s not much of a disguise… Feels like I might as well be wearing my uniform.”

“That’s the point; to draw attention to you.”

“So, it’s not a disguise. Just me in better clothes.”

Hope smiles. “Something like that.”

James wasn’t kidding when he said he believed Zemo had a crush (“infatuation,” he later put it) with Steve. He thinks all of Zemo’s ridiculous taunts at Steve over his diabolical plans are his way of “presenting” to him (clearly under the impression Steve is an Alpha), and the only reason he went into hiding for the last year was because S.H.I.E.L.D got too close to capturing him. Steve knows the last thing Zemo wants is to be sent to [The Raft](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Raft).

Thereby, flaunting Steve around Romania in a romantic tryst with someone else, might draw Zemo out of hiding before the bioweapon exchange.

“This is a dumb idea,” Steve laments.

“Hey, Spangled Tights, I’ve been on James’ team since he became an agent. He gets the job done. No matter how stupid it is,” Wade tells him, while assembling a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Steve has no idea what could possibly happen on this assignment that would warrant such a gun, but he hopes it doesn’t get that intense.

“Wade is right,” Wanda says in her thick Eastern European accent. “James never fails. He’s a smart man. And a good spy. Listen to him.”

“This all just feels like a hunch rather than actual fact,” Steve argues.

“James would never put anyone in danger over a hunch,” Darcy pipes up. She’s fiddling with their comms. “Relax. Your nerves are getting the best of you,” she says with a smile.

Steve takes a deep breath. In… and out…

[James](https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/actor-sebastian-stan-attends-the-special-screening-of-allied-hosted-picture-id623542164) enters the suite with a cup of coffee in his hand. Steve can’t help but to take notice of how attractive he looks in [casual civilian clothes](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cb/fb/15/cbfb159d8c3a1cb12708890488fb70ef.jpg); dark khakis, pattern button-down, navy blue peacoat, and brown, vintage military boots that remind Steve of the ones he used to wear during WWII. “Our informant confirms the exchange is to happen in 2 hours at the cobbler’s, so chances are that’s where Zemo and his gang are hiding out. Darcy—”

“Already got eyes and ears at the place.” She clicks her tongue, giving him finger guns.

“That’s my girl,” he winks at her.

And Steve, out of nowhere, has to tamper down a slight rush of jealousy.

“Steve, you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I-I’m good. I’m fine.”

“Run down the plan for me,” James tells him.

“Hope and I are going to brunch at Caru' cu Bere, near the shoe repair, which is where your informant said Zemo’s right hand man, Sergei, picks up lunch every day around 1 o’clock. We wait for Sergei to notice me then allow ourselves to be taken to Zemo. Darcy will be tracking us. In the meantime, you and Wade interrupt the sale and take Zemo’s arms dealer into custody. Wanda will handle the WMD while you send back up to the location Hope and I are taken to for rescue.”

“Nice,” James smiles at him.

“You don’t think Zemo will take Steven and Hope to the cobbler’s and not another location,” Wanda asks.

“No. The shop is their hideout, their headquarters, where they lay their heads at night and do business during the day. They wouldn’t want it to get messy there. Draws attention. They’re an innocent little shoe shop in Old Town Bucharest that no one suspects of global terrorism. They want to keep it that way.”

“Even if they do take me and Captain Rogers to the shop I wouldn’t mind. More creeps I get to punch,” Hope says, half-joking.

James stalks over and looks Steve over in the mirror. His eyes on him causes a flutter in his stomach…

“What do you think,” Hope asks.

“Good enough to eat. Yum,” Wade says.

Hope rolls her eyes. “Not you, mouth. James?”

“You comfortable, Steve,” he asks.

“Yeah. The [clothes](https://images.bewakoof.com/utter/content/3975/content_Chino-Pants.jpg) are good. I’d wear this. If I had taste.”

James chuckles and it lights up his whole face. Especially the little crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Good. If you’re relaxed in the disguise, then you’ll be relaxed in the field. I like it. It’s a good look for you.”

Steve’s in a pair of khakis Chinos, exposing his ankles, a light blue button-down with white cuffs, rolled up to his elbow, and a pair of white, [K-Swiss sneakers](https://www.overstock.com/Clothing-Shoes/K-Swiss-Mens-Court-Pro-II-CMF-Sneaker-White/12973412/product.html?refccid=4Y6WDAFG5LOKF5KHTAD6BW3WPQ&searchidx=0&kwds=&rfmt=brand%3AK-Swiss) on his feet. A pair of dark Ray Bans dangle at the open collar of his shirt. He looks vacation-ready for a yacht party in the Hamptons.

“I do, however, look like I call everybody ‘bruh’.”

The room erupts into laughter.

“Well, you did say you’d wear this, _bruh_,” James reminds.

“I also said I didn’t have taste.”

James smiles, shaking his head at Steve.

“You do know that this entire thing is ironic. Given the last time we spoke, you implied I had a death wish, and now—”

“And now, I’m throwing you into a lion’s den dressed as steak. I know. Want to back out?”

“No. Just wanted you to hear it out loud,” Steve grins.

“Do other people know you’re a little shit sometimes,” James asks with a smile.

“The ones that pay attention do.”

A wolfish grin grows on the Alpha’s face as he looks Steve up and down with a quick flick of his eyes. Steve knows that look, that predatory look. And it’s the first time since Peggy that he’s wanted to be prey…

Darcy clears her throat, _loudly_, smiling at them. “Anybody want to stop a terrorist today?”

“Right.” James checks his watch. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road, kids.”

∞∞∞

Steve is to go to the Caru' cu Bere restaurant, ask for outdoor seating, and wait for his “date.” He lets the hostess escort him to his [table](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/563301865863374640/) and tries with everything in him to remain calm as the seconds tick by for Hope to join him.

“Unclench your asshole, Cap,” Wade says in his comm.

A busser swings by, pours Steve a glass of ice water, and places a basket of bread on the table. Steve thanks him. The busser smiles politely and goes about his business.

Steve brings the water to his mouth, trying to hide that his lips are moving: “What?”

“Shut up, Wade,” Darcy snaps in his ear. “What Wade was trying to say, Steve, is look more relaxed. Because from where we’re sitting, you look like a coiled spring.”

“Everybody shut up. Rogers.” James is on the comms now. “Take a breath. Now, lean back into your chair and sip your water.”

Steve does as told.

“Look around, but not like you’re scoping for snipers. Like you’re on vacation and admiring the historic, European architecture.”

It’s a bright, balmy day. A little busy, too. Traffic flows steadily up and down the street, and around a jug handle. But mostly there are pedestrians on the sidewalks, and bikers cruising with the cars the ride alongside.

Steve notices he’s surrounded by modern, functionalist apartment buildings, a few neoclassical and romanticism churches, and a lot of communist architecture that are mostly government buildings. The streets are cobblestone, and there are gas lamps on the corners, which make him smile.

“What are you smiling about, Mr. Rogers,” James asks.

He picks up his menu, eyes skimming over it as he holds it casually to his face, shielding his moving lips. “This city. It’s beautiful. I like it.”

“Yeah? Did you know that Bucharest’s nickname is ‘The Paris of the East’?”

“I did not. Fitting though.” Steve never got a real chance to explore Europe, like a tourist. Too busy fighting. And even if he wasn’t, who’s to say he would have enjoyed it, given most of it was a bombed-out wreck. “The building in front of me, with the glass dome, it’s pretty. What is it?”

“The [CEC Palace](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CEC_Palace),” James answers.

“Wish I had my sketchpad.”

“You draw?”

“And paint. You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t think you’d…enjoy art enough to engage in it. Bet you’re good at that, too, though.”

Steve, against all willpower, finds himself blushing. “I love art but I’m not an artist.”

“How so? Why are you not an artist?”

“Because I’m Captain America.”

“You can be an artist, too, you know,” James tells him as he **slides into the chair beside Steve**. Without warning, James leans in and pecks Steve’s lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Steve tries his best not to panic, but he’s gripping the menu way too hard to be anything but calm.

James leans in close, their knees touching, his mouth still a hair’s breadth away from Steve’s, “Rogers, I need you to smile, like you miss me.”

Steve nods. He clears his throat, gaining his composure. He smiles just like James told him to, making his stomach do a nervous flip.

“Thank you. Slight change of plans.”

“_Slight_?”

Just then Hope swings by, disguised as their server.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve mumbles nervously.

She pours James a glass of ice water from the pitcher in her hands. Steve sees that her knuckles are freshly bruised and cut. “_Bună. Numele meu este Janet. Văd că întâlnirea ta a sosit în sfârșit, domnule. Pot să vă ofer ceva de băut, în afară de apă_?”

“_Da_,” James replies. “_Vă rugăm să ne aduceți o sticlă de Sauvignon Blanc_.”

“_Absolut. Mă întorc imediat_.” Hope enters the café.

“What happened?”

“Hope got made on the way here by an old rival we didn’t know was here. She had to handle it and we couldn’t leave you hanging for too long and miss our opportunity with Zemo. I swear, no one is trying to make you look foolish. By the way, my covert name is 'Bucky'.”

“_Bucky_?”

James nods as he relaxes into his seat, casually taking a sip of water with his arm around the back of Steve’s chair, body turned in full attention in his direction. He looks natural, at ease. Like this isn’t even a cover, but an ordinary lunch with an actual date.

_He and Natasha are so good at this_, he thinks. And Steve wants to be good at it, too…

He breathes in deep and relaxes his shoulders. In order to do this, he has to go with the flow. This mission is still the same, but the players have had to improvise a little. Happens. Steve’s been on plenty of assignments where unforeseen circumstances force you to take a left turn instead of a right. He’s ‘the greatest tactician of his generation’ after all. He’s got this.

Steve leans into James a bit. He rests his right hand atop the table close to James’ left. His fingertips graze the other man’s knuckles. “What’s the CEC Palace?”

“It’s a bank,” James answers, not missing a beat.

Steve gently runs his fingertips along James’ knuckles. They’re bruised a bit, too. He must have had to abandon his post to help Hope. “A bank? That’s it?”

James smiles. “Unfortunately. Sorry it’s not something cool, like a menagerie.”

“You mean like a _glass menagerie_?”

James chuckles. “I didn’t even know I made that reference.”

“I don’t mind. Finally, one that I understood. Who even calls a zoo that anymore?”

“We do. The cool people with the extensive vocabulary and literary references.”

Steve smiles. He didn’t want to like James, but since accepting this mission, working with him, he’s discovered that it’s difficult not to. He’s seen him be smart, witty, competent, thoughtful, disciplined, and now, flirty. Steve realizes he might be in trouble. In more ways than one.

Hope returns with two big glasses of white wine and its open bottle. Steve tries to draw his hand away, but James pulls him back, rubbing the pad of his thumb on the inside of Steve’s wrist. Steve clears his throat, trying to focus, to breathe, because he’s suddenly flushed and jittery.

“_Totul e în regulă_,” Hope asks in that high, customer service voice. But Steve knows she’s actually checking on her team. On Steve.

“We’re all good here. Thank you,” Steve tells her.

“Fantastic.” She puts their glasses down and the ice bucket holding the bottle James ordered. “_Anunță-mă când ești gata să comanzi_.”

“_O vom face. vă mulţumesc_.”

Hope saunters back into the café.

“Now, where were we,” James asks.

“Hold that thought,” Wade comes in, over their comms. “Sergei coming down the east side toward the café,” Wade tells them over their comms. “About six feet tall, bald head, jeans and Doc Martins. Jesus. He should’ve just put a sign on that reads: bad guy.”

“Zemo and his crew have been here undetected for a while. So, they’re starting to get sloppy with their public appearances,” James responds.

Steve and James watch the man in all black with military boots as he crosses the street. It’s not cold enough for one, but he’s wearing a utility jacket. Steve knows immediately that the man is carrying a weapon. James showed up without his peacoat.

Sergei heads toward the café. Steve’s initial reaction is to duck his head, but then he remembers he’s _supposed to be seen_. He sits up straighter, loving eyes on James as the goon gets closer to the entrance.

“What kind of art interests you,” James asks. He’s good at the small talk, keeping Steve both alert and distracted.

“You name it and I like it. Except surrealism.”

“So, no Dali or…who’s the other guy…?”

“Magritte?”

James snaps his fingers. “That’s it!”

“No. Surrealism is…too pretentious to me.”

“I can see that…”

Steve’s eyes remain on James, but they watch as Zemo’s henchman enters the café.

“He inside,” James asks. His back is to the café door. Steve nods. “Hope.”

“I’m on him… He’s picking up a massive food order,” she tells him.

“Oh, god. The bad guys ordered take-out. I thought that was a joke,” Wade groans over the earpiece. “He make Steve?”

“No, not yet.”

“Should we make a scene,” Hope asks.

“No. We want _him_ to notice Steve, not for _everyone_ to notice Steve.”

“Gotcha.”

Steve’s eyes flick to the entrance.

“Keep your eyes on me, gorgeous.” James winks at him, sipping his wine. Steve turns three shades of pink at the pet name. “Your [hair](https://chrisevansfiles.com/photos/albums/images/Films/2019-AvengersEndGame/Screencaptures-Film/AvengersEndgame-0085.jpg) is longer.”

Steve runs a hand through it. “Natasha thinks I should cut it, but Sam said it looks good this length.”

“I think Natalia has no idea what she’s talking about, and this Sam guy has got good taste.”

“…You like it?”

“Very much so.” James leans in close to Steve’s ear. His lips brush feather-light against Steve’s jawbone. Steve’s embarrassed by the small sigh he lets out as his eyes close and his date wraps an arm around his waist. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but for some reason, I really, _really_, want to grip your neck.” James yanks him as closely as he can, practically in his lap. Steve’s taken aback a moment by how strong James is, managing to move all 200 lbs. of him the way he wants. Then Steve remembers James is an Alpha.

He still has one arm holding Steve as the other tips back his wine glass as he swallows the rest. He sets the glass down, close to the edge of the table with the ice bucket. He leans into Steve’s ear again: “When you see Zemo’s gofer, pull the tablecloth down, hard.”

Steve nods, but he’ a little distracted with how close James’ lips are to his neck.

“You okay, doll?”

Steve’s going to die because of these pretend nicknames James gives him. He swallows hard. “Don’t kiss my neck,” he says. He feels like a wanton with how breathy and lustful he sounds.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

James doesn’t finish his thought because Steve yanks the tablecloth down, spilling their wine glasses and the ice bucket to the ground with a loud crash!

All eyes turn to them, Steve and James apologize profusely to the other patrons. Hope comes running out “to help.”

Steve chances a glance, and the goon locks eyes with him for the briefest of moments before hurrying off down the street.

“He saw me,” Steve says.

“Alright, we got to go after him. Hope, link up with Wade and get to the shoe repair.”

“I put a tracker on his coat when I handed him the bag,” Hope tells them as she picks up the broken bottle. James and Hope exchange fake apologies in Romanian for the mess that was made. James hands her a few bucks, seemingly for the wine, and grabs Steve’s hand.

They walk briskly in the same direction as Sergei.

“Darcy.”

“Got him. Slow down though. He’s really close to you guys.”

Steve and James slow down to a leisurely stroll.

“Where,” James asks.

“The van. Across the street. Hope’s tracker says he ducked into there,” Darcy tells him.

Steve and James spot the van directly behind him, across the street like Darcy said. They come to a casual stop. They’re facing each other, looking like a couple of lovebirds. But really, they’re both watching the van, sticking close.

“Tattoos,” James says.

“What?”

“Do you think tattoos are art?”

Steve shrugs. “Depends on the tattoo, I guess. I’ve seen some that I wouldn’t even call ‘doodles’.”

“Hmm.”

Steve draws him closer by his belt loop, into his space. “Are you telling me you have a tattoo, Bucky?”

“I might.”

“Where?”

“No place interesting, but I would have to take my shirt off to show you…” James tilts Steve’s head upward with the tip of his nose, holding him all the while. He places a soft kiss there, on smooth, clean-shaven skin. “Had I known flirting with you, pretending to be your boyfriend, would be this pleasant I’d have been a lot nicer to you 3 years ago.”

“You can be nice to me now.”

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“You don’t know how true that is. Zemo’s guy just climbed out the van. With two other guys.”

“Feel like getting kidnapped with me, Rogers?”

Steve snorts.

James takes his hand as they stroll slowly down the sidewalk, knowing they’re being followed. They purposely turn down an alley, trying to look as nonchalant as they can. They coolly remove their comms, crunching them under their feet as they walk further into the alleyway. There’s a tracker in Steve’s shoe Darcy can trail.

The alley is dimly lit and empty, save for them and their would-be kidnappers.

The three guys charge at them, punching James in the stomach and the face. Steve lets one guy kick his feet from under him, then give him a nasty right hook to the face. He fakes not being able to get up, letting one of the idiots pull a black bag over his head.

∞∞∞

He’s sitting in a chair. His hands are tied with rope. The room is dimly lit except for a single light source overhead, as indicated by the hazy brightness above him, but not anywhere else.

The bag is pulled off his head.

[Zemo](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Helmut_Zemo). Leaning casually on a broken desk in what appears to be an abandoned school. He’s holding a [9mm](https://www.mmpguns.com/handguns-in-store/semi-automatic-72-3619/glock-g45-gen5-9mm-1687331) in his hand.

“Captain America,” Zemo greets.

“I see you’re still wearing the purple sock on your head.”

Zemo chuckles, then pulls the eggplant-colored ski mask off his head. “Miss seeing my face,” he asks in his undefined, Eastern European accent that oddly sounds both German and Russian,

“It’s always a good day when I don’t have to think about you, Zemo.”

“But you do think about me.”

“When I’m hitting the bag at the gym.” Zemo looks confused. “Boxing,” Steve clarifies.

“Ah, an American expression. I like those. Always so crude and direct—"

“Why am I here, Helmut? I was on a date. Where’s Bucky?”

Zemo’s face sours, and for the first time since dealing with him 4 years ago, Steve thinks there might be some truth to James’ theory that Zemo might be infatuated with him. Because the man looks perturbed with jealousy at the moment.

“Who is this man? This civilian. This…Bucky.”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing until I know he’s fine.”

“He’s an Alpha. Like you. It’ll never work.”

“Alpha pairs are rare. Not impossible. Now, where is he? Let me see him.”

“He’s not a strong Alpha. He cried and begged and pleaded for his life when we took him. He’ll never protect you like a real Alpha is supposed to.”

“And how would you know,” Steve mocks.

Designation is a role of the dice, chance, like any other gamble. But Zemo is one of those Betas that feels like life handed him some sort of raw deal just because he wasn’t born an Alpha. So, he particularly doesn’t like Steve bringing it up.

“I know how an Alpha is to behave. Your _Bucky_, is not a good one.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll find out how good he is all on my own.”

Zemo smiles wickedly. “If he’s still alive.”

Just then three shots ring out further within the decrepit building! Zemo turns toward the noise…

“Better go see what that was,” Steve smirks.

Zemo’s eyes narrow at him. Steve can see the wheels turning in his head. “You wanted to get taken,” Zemo realizes. He pistol-whips Steve across his face! “Who is that man?” Zemo presses the barrel of his gun to Steve’s temple and removes the safety. “Who. Is. That. Man,” he growls.

Sergei comes crashing through the decrepit drywall into the classroom they’re in! There’s a [combat knife](https://image.dhgate.com/f2/albu/g8/M01/48/85/rBVaV1xGnVSAPg6qAARww0Q7OgU977.jpg?43f03d05ecf1aed8df35521f14ce6139) buried into the middle of his chest.

“Agent Barnes,” James answers. He enters slowly through the damaged wall, weapon trained on Zemo as he approaches. Steve can see his shirt is sprayed with blood. He’s a little dusty and dirty from having fought Zemo’s crew to escape where he was held. “Rogers, you good?”

Steve spits a mouth of blood onto the floor. “Fine. Aside for the pistol to my head,” Steve answers.

The terrorist turns to Steve. “Didn’t know covert-ops was your thing?”

“Anything to watch you rot away in a cell under the ocean.”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about the bioweapon. You want to know about it.”

“No, that’s alright. We know plenty. We just needed you to miss the exchange. And your little crush on Steve here, was just perfect enough to have you crawl out of hiding and get a little distracted,” James tells him.

“I am not a schoolboy dealing in fantasy! I am a leader! A soldier! I am a fucking supervillain!”

“And I’m a crack shot. Lower your weapon, Zemo,” James tells him.

“I’m not going to The Raft,” Zemo says with nothing but finality in his voice.

“I will take you out. Right between the eyes.”

“Not before I put a bullet in Captain America’s head.”

“Put the weapon down now!”

“There’s a tracker in this building, Helmut. We put it on one of your guys and the other in the sole of my shoe. You’re about to get your own Alphabet parade,” Steve tells his nemesis. “So, you’ve got two choices: James puts a bullet in you, or every agent from D.C. to Moscow puts a million bullets in you.”

“There’s a third option, too,” James says.

“I already told you: I’m not going to The Raft. Guess I’ll just have to make a fourth option.”

* * *

“The Sokovian government is now in possession of Zemo’s body,” Maria tells Steve as they approach the quinjet. “They’re going to announce in the morning that he’s dead.”

“So, they get all the credit and glory, huh,” Steve teases.

Maria gives him a half-smile. “Thought credit and glory were 'hollow desires'?”

“Just because I didn’t need a parade, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it.”

_“And here I thought you were a changed man, Rogers.”_

Steve turns to the voice behind him. James.

An army green [duffel](https://www.armynavysales.com/g-i-current-issue-army-duffel-bag-cidb-1591.html) is slung over his shoulder. He’s wearing aviators and sloppy [civilian clothes](https://weheartit.com/entry/300104837) that make Steve _want_.

Maria gives him the same smirk he gave her about Sam a few weeks ago. “Meet you on the jet,” she says, allowing he and James some privacy.

They’ve both been detained, separately, for the last 48 hours, doing post-op debriefings with their respective agencies. In addition to answering any and all questions posed to them from Interpol and the Sokovian government. Steve thought he missed his chance to properly say ‘goodbye’, but here he is.

Steve smiles. “You were right: you’re a crack shot.”

“Should see me with a sniper rifle. Not to brag, but I can knock a tick off a deer’s ass from a thousand yards away.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. I bet you could.”

“How’s the ear,” James asks.

“Much better now. Thank you.”

Steve ducked, knocking his chair to the floor in order to avoid the bullet Zemo meant for him. It fired a little too close to his ear drum before his shoulder collided with the grubby, vinyl tile.

“Good.” James sets down his duffel by his feet. “Look, I’m glad I caught you.” He lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You did great out in the field. Thank you, for helping me.”

“Does this mean your mind has been changed about me? And The Avengers?”

“You? Yes. Them…? I guess the rest of your team are just going to have to try and impress me as much as you do. I’m a man of conviction; not easily influenced.”

“Fair enough.” Truth is, no one gets that more than Steve. “Where you headed?” There’s a military [chopper](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/77/2e/f2/772ef214b8302079a14f69f247ac4443.jpg) gearing up on the runway about a hundred yards from the quinjet.

“D.C. for a bit. Rest up a while at Wanda’s place while she’s in [Seattle](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Center_for_Infectious_Disease_Research), helping to return the bioweapon. Then another assignment. In Wakanda.”

“How long will you be there?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know. I go where they tell me to and do the job they want me to do. Hope and Wade are coming, too. With a new agent. [Mercedes](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Misty_Knight), I think is her name.”

Steve tries his best not to look disappointed, but he knows he's failing. “Well, then, I guess this is ‘goodbye’…”

“Not really. I still have to show you my tattoo, so we’ve got to see each other again.”

Steve blushes. It’s like a natural reaction around James now. “Good. I’d like that.”

They share a moment as the helicopter’s rotor whirls around, kicking up wind around them. The sun setting, with vivid colors of warm red, yellow, and oranges makes the light reflect brilliantly off James’ tan skin, shiny, brown hair, and his eyes. The eyes… Steve could write sonnets about the grayish-blue of James’ eyes...

“Fuck it.” James yanks Steve into his space by his [bomber jacket](https://www.leathercult.com/jackets/leather-jackets/the-avengers-steve-rogers-chris-evans-jacket?cPath=165&gclid=CjwKCAjw-vjqBRA6EiwAe8TCk9hhT_hp77AMg1UdgNbnUM38Bu-IVDNwFrmoxkl4o3yObkntJKeZ-xoC3roQAvD_BwE). His lips touch Steve’s and they’re kissing, wild and insatiable. He moans as their tongues slip into each other’s mouth. James cups his face, tilting him how he wants him. Steve’s hands comb through James’ hair. It’s softer, and thicker, than he imagined. 

James growls, a possessive, hungry Alpha growl, and Steve keens in response.

James reluctantly breaks their kiss. “I didn’t think kissing you would be like this,” James says, breathless, panting for more of Steve’s lips and tongue.

“Me either.”

James kisses him again. This time slow and sweet, making Steve’s knees weak.

“Whoa, buddy! Didn’t mean to catch that,” Darcy says, accidentally interrupting them. Steve and James break apart, busted. “My bad.”

“Captain Rogers and I were just saying ‘goodbye’. For now.”

“Right. And I’m the tooth fairy,” she giggles. 

Hope and Wade emerge around the corner out of the hanger and say their ‘byes’ and ‘thank yous’ to Steve. It’s the first time Hope has worn her engagement ring. He congratulates her and demands a invite to the wedding which makes her laugh. They hug and she parts, heading toward the helicopter.

Wade merely gives him a pat on the back and says: “Thanks for not fucking it up.” And he’s off, following behind Hope.

“And then there was one…” James leans in one last time, lips kissing Steve’s, soft and easy, before they’re gone. “Don’t miss me too much, punk. I’ll be back before you know it.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their lingering fingertips slowly slipping apart as James makes the distance between them grow larger. He slips his glasses back on his face. “Keep an eye on him, Darce! He's a mess,” he shouts with a wave.

Steve waves back, watching him walk to the chopper and climb in, all cool swagger and ease.

_Such a spy…_

_“_Wait. Are you not going with them,” Steve asks Darcy.

“Nah. Not this mission. I got to get back to New York and water that asshole’s plants,” she says, pointing at the helicopter taking flight. “Was hoping you could give a girl a lift.”

Steve smiles. He likes her. She’s bubbly and funny and dresses in a style he heard her call “[rockabilly](https://www.rebelcircus.com/women/apparel/dresses.html?p=2)” that he likes.

“Of course.”

“Great! I call shotgun though.” She hooks her arm through his as they approach the quinjet. “He likes you. Or as much of you that he knows, he likes.”

“I think I like him, too.”

“You’re not worried about the two of you of both being Alphas? Because James certainly looks like he doesn’t care.”

“Well, then, if he doesn’t, then I don’t.”

She squeezes his arm, practically squealing with joy. “Good. You guys look hot together.”

Steve laughs.

They reach the rear cargo door of the quinjet. Darcy pushes up on her tiptoes and pecks Steve’s cheek. “Good job out there, by the way. This job ain’t easy a lot of the time. But when you work with good people, it’s worth it. And saving the world. That kicks ass, too. But you know that already.”

“I didn’t do much. James was the action star.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Cap. You'd make a decent spy.”

He helps her onto the plane and remembers— “I didn’t get his number!” Steve runs off the plane, searching the sky in a panic, like he could somehow find James’ helicopter and pull it from the air, and ask for his number.

“Steve!”

He turns to Darcy giggling at him.

“He didn’t give it to you because he knew I would. At ease, soldier.”

Steve opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words. He hangs his head, shaking it a little at himself. He’s ridiculous. But can you blame him? The last time he jumped on a plane, parting from an Alpha he liked, he woke up 75 years later, having missed his chance.

Darcy takes pity on him and extends her hand.

He takes it. Her skin is soft and just as pale as his. Her nails are painted bright red, but her fingers feel strong.

“James is right. I do need to keep an eye on you.”

Steve sighs. “Looks like it, Darcy. Looks like it...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems I had more than enough time to finish this chapter than I thought... Hope you liked it.
> 
> And as always, I love comments. Promise to respond to all of them :D


	5. Radio Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a little too in his feelings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

[Darcy’s apartment](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397707589/) is surprisingly more contemporary than Steve thought it’d be: with its navy blue, brick pillar aesthetically placed in the center of the living room and bare, white walls except for a colorful, abstract expressionist painting. Her fabric couch is gray and shaped like the letter “L”, with a Cashmere, yellow blanket draped over the cushions. The pillows on it are large and soft and covered in dark patterns. And her floors are a tawny-colored hardwood that Steve’s currently running a groove through.

“Steve, you’re creating a trench in my floor. Please sit down.”

“7 weeks. 7 weeks, Darcy.”

“I know, but believe it or not, I’ve gone longer without hearing from him.”

Steve finally stops pacing. “How can you stand that? Knowing he… Knowing he purposely goes into these dangerous situations and…might not come back because of it?”

“How do the people that care about you stand it?”

“I’m always in those situations _with_ the people I care about.” He flops down on her ottoman, exasperated and nervously clutching his cellphone.

Darcy leans close to him, putting her hands atop his. “I can’t sit around and worry about all the things that could happen to him. Or Hope. Or Wade. It’ll drive me crazy. I just have to remember they’re smart, skilled, capable people. They can find and fight their way out of any hole they’re put in. You’ve seen him in action. Don’t you think James is all those things? Don’t you think he’s a good spy?”

“…Yes.”

“And didn’t he train Black Widow? The best superhero spy out there?”

A corner of his mouth turns up slightly, smiling. “Yes.”

“Then please trust in him. Or try to. I know it’s hard but reminding yourself of those things will keep you sane. I promise.”

Reluctantly, he nods. He’ll try, he really will...but he’ll also pester Fury about James’ top secret mission so Natasha can try to at least triangulate where his location might be…

“I see the wheels turning, Steve.” She _tsks_ at him. “You know if his communication has gone dark it’s for a reason.” Steve readies to respond— “Don’t compromise the mission.”

Steve immediately closes his mouth. That’s the last thing he wants to do. He could render months of hard work useless, end up giving vital information away, or worse, James could be killed. All because he missed his sorta/kinda boyfriend (???).

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” She squeezes his hands. “How ‘bout some tea?” She doesn’t wait for a response; hops up from the couch and heads to the kitchenette.

He and James have been texting one another, non-stop since Darcy handed over James’ number on the quinjet back to New York. Occasionally, they Facetime, but for the most part, James flirts and says really sweet things via text in between sending Steve funny pictures called “memes.” Steve flirts back, not as good as James, but he tries. He's not afraid to ask him things, pop culture and history things he doesn’t quite understand sometimes, appreciating that James never makes fun of him for not knowing. Steve sends him a riddle or brain teaser a day that James always solves right away, but Steve always wins Scrabble and [Uno Friends](https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=uno.friends.free.card.ono&hl=en_US) when they play. James always asks how his day went and laughs at whatever clever story about Tony he has that day. And they always make plans to do certain things for when James gets back…if Steve isn’t called away to save the world for the millionth time.

So their undefined, long-distance flirtation has been good. Great even. Until James stopped responding several weeks ago.

“Darcy. Should… Should I be waiting for him?”

“What do you mean,” she asks, filling her tea kettle with water from the tap.

He lifts off the ottoman and joins her in the kitchenette. He takes a seat on the middle barstool at the counter. “I mean… I mean, a sexy spy kissed me two minutes before taking off on a secret mission to Wakanda 5 months ago and I’ve been hung up on him since.”

“Which is utterly adorable.” She winks at him.

He manages a meager smile at her approval of he and James. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve just been _flirting_ with a guy over the phone. Who’s made no promises to me, and I’ve made no promises to him. I want to be with him, but I’m not with him. Am I making this thing between us far more serious than I should?”

She looks sad, disappointed. “I can’t answer that for you, Steve. Only you know what your relationship is with James.”

“Or lack thereof.”

Steve may be on suppressants and scent blockers, but he’s still an Omega. He still has Omega instincts to physically be with an Alpha, especially an Alpha he’s heavily attracted to and is building a report with. There’s a guttural need in Omegas at times to be close to, soothed and protected by, their Alpha. And even though James technically isn’t _his_ Alpha, he’s still one Steve has some sort of intimacy with, and it hurts that he’s 5,000 miles away.

“Steve.” She puts down two mugs she pulls from an overhead cabinet. “Do you want to give James up?”

No, he doesn’t. But it’s easier to step away than feel like a terrified idiot.

“…I think I might be losing my head over something that’s not there.”

“Steve—”

“I’m infatuated with a man that kissed me once then disappeared.”

“You know that’s not entirely true, Steve. You know you and James are more than a one-off. Do you really want to break up with him because he went underground? Because there’s no clear definition as to what exactly the two of you are right now?”

“I can’t break up with a guy I was never really with, can I? Darcy, I feel like I’m driving myself crazy over a guy I barely know outside of a few flirty texts.”

“It sounds like you want me to give you permission to be distracted. Like, another person kind of distracted.”

“No! I just… I just think I’m going to take a step back, until James returns.”

The kettle whistles loudly in the silence between them; Steve looking dejected and Darcy, dismayed, by his decision.

She removes the kettle from the heat and turns off the stove. “I’m sure James would want you to do what you need to in order to be happy, Steve.”

It’s a generic, passive response, so beneath her and the friendship they’ve crafted over the last few months, but he understands why she gives it. He hates how much of a chicken, an "Omega," he's being. Darcy’s being far too nice in not calling him out on it.

“Thanks,” he says, wishing he were as valiant as the world’s made him out to be as she slides her [tea box](https://www.etsy.com/listing/701792369/mary-poppins-inspired-tea-box?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=tea+box&ref=sr_gallery-1-4&frs=1) in front of him.

* * *

“You giant, blond baby,” Natasha snaps at him.

Natasha, however, is not so nice.

“Nat—”

“Grow a pair and tough it out. You knew he was a spy when you let him kiss you. You knew he was leaving and that it was going to be hard for a while. And you absolutely knew there was no clear definition to your relationship, Steve. It’s not exactly fair of you to have an issue with it now.”

“It’s not that black and white, Nat. Part of how I feel about it is…” He pauses for a beat, trying to find the right words he’s looking for; a better explanation. “Omegas—”

“Stop right there before I hit you. You are not going to blame your cowardice on being an Omega.” She pulls the yellow rubber gloves off her hands and tosses them onto the [counter](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/814307176346199521/). Her hair is up and tied with a bandana like [Rosie the Riveter](https://www.google.com/search?q=Rosie+the+Riveter&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&oq=Rosie+the+Riveter&aqs=chrome..69i57.3024088j0j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8). Her face is devoid of makeup and brow sweaty from scrubbing her tub and toilet. Steve will forever get a kick out of Natasha doing household chores. She’s the only one of The Avengers that does. Tony’s pleaded on more than a thousand occasions for her to allow the cleaning crew to do their jobs for her, but she always refuses. She likes the tedious, monotony of washing dishes, folding laundry, or vacuuming the carpet. It’s a good time for her to think and reflect in peace. Plus, the spy in her doesn’t like other people, strangers, in her personal space. “I get it: you get a little needy sometimes with your Alpha, but that’s not what all this is. Not completely.”

He leans against the door frame, staring at his [boots](https://www.kohls.com/product/prd-632517/eastland-lumber-up-boots-men.jsp?item_group_id=PG_141810205). “James isn’t my Alpha.”

“Oh, for fuck’s…” She groans and rubs her temples like Steve’s giving her a headache and not the overpowering smell of bleach and [Comet](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comet_\(cleanser\)) in the bathroom. “How exactly do you plan to take a break from someone that’s gone underground? He can’t call or reply back to you.”

“I think… I think I’ll…just…stop…for a while. Until he gets back and we can talk face-to-face.”

“You’re going to ghost him?!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re an idiot. And if you do that, you’ll be an asshole, too.”

“I feel like both anyway.”

“Then you know you shouldn’t do this. If it doesn’t feel right, then you should reconsider. You’re being a brat.”

“…Maybe. But it feels better than being worried to death about him. Or scared that when he gets back that maybe I read too much into what we mean to each other.”

She shakes her head at him and sighs crossing her arms under her breasts. “I know what this is really about, and when you’re ready, we’ll talk about it.”

“I don’t understand what you mean…”

“I know, but when you figure it out, we’ll talk,” she says, cryptically. “Now, get out so I can shower. I’m going to lunch with Pepper.”

“…Can I come?”

“Girls only this time, big guy.”

Steve nods, a little disappointed he wasn’t invited, but nonetheless, pushes off the door frame, letting Natasha close it for privacy.

* * *

There’s a knock at the door that draws Steve’s attention from the files on his [desk—](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397716571/)

Rumlow.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Brock.”

“Can I come in?”

Steve nods and Rumlow enters, closing the door behind him. Steve finds that odd, given even in their most secret of discussions, he’s never done that before.

“Are… Are we good, Cap,” Brock asks.

“I haven’t gotten to your report yet, but Fury said the recon went well—”

“No. I meant… I meant us. You and me. Are we good?”

Steve’s confused by the question. As far as he knows, he and Rumlow don’t have any problems. They’re friendly and work well together. He’s at a loss for what exactly Brock might mean.

It must show on his face, because Brock chuckles lightly. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. Well, if that doesn’t hurt the ol’ Alpha ego… I few months ago it looked like we might…explore something more than a working relationship. You seemed interested.”

Steve sits up straighter. Now, he knows what Rumlow meant. Steve can’t believe he forgot about the other man asking him out, and his lack of an answer since.

“And it’s been a little harder than it used to be, trying to get your attention since then. So, I was just wondering, if I did something, or you heard something about me. Because let me tell you, Cap, the people in this building gossip and start rumors more than a bunch of housewives at a hair salon.”

“We’re good, Brock. I’m sorry about that. My head has been somewhere else.”

Steve rarely has to debate if he should be honest, even in the face of hurting someone else’s feelings, but he and Rumlow work together, they have to get along, and they best way to do that is to always be truthful with your team. Something he and the other Avengers took too long to figure out. But he also doesn’t know if telling him too much reveals things he doesn’t exactly want the other man to know.

Rumlow crosses Steve’s office to boldly take a seat on the edge of Steve’s desk. “So, I didn’t imagine it. You were interested?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you weren’t?”

“No. Not exactly.” Being vague is hard work for Steve. He doesn’t know how Natasha does it.

Rumlow sees the turmoil on the blond man’s face. “You can be honest with me, Cap.”

And that’s all the permission Steve needed. “When you asked me out for drinks, I had every intention of saying ‘yes’, but then someone I wasn’t expecting showed up, and I’m afraid my interest…went elsewhere.”

“I get that. You got history with someone.”

“Not so much ‘history’ but a growing fascination.”

“They treat you right?”

He’s a little taken aback by the question. He didn’t expect Rumlow to care in that way. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

“Then what happened?”

“…Distance.” Which is the best answer Steve can think of at the moment.

“Fuck him. His loss.”

Steve laughs. “No. No, it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t hostile. Just…quiet, and disappointing.”

“Still his loss.” Brock winks at him. Steve shrugs not knowing how else to respond. He’s never done well with compliments or praise. Rumlow pushes himself off Steve’s desk. “Thanks. For being honest. I get it. Really. And if you ever change your mind about that drink, offer’s still on the table. At any time.”

“How about tonight? Around eight?”

Because screw it. Why not? Brock’s here, in front of him, and James isn’t.

Brock smiles. “Eight sounds good.”

∞∞∞

“Make sure you bring mace,” Sam tells him.

“And a rape whistle,” Natasha adds.

Natasha came over to [Sam’s place](http://littlemissycharters.info/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/masculine-apartment-view-in-gallery-masculine-studio-apartments.jpg) for a standing poker night they have with Helen Cho, Tony, and Maria Hill who has recently joined them ever since their fifth person, an intern of Tony’s, dropped out due to a change in his school schedule. Natasha is always early to help Sam with [hors d'oeuvres](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwj7ytuQtqTkAhUvGDQIHQnzA5MQjhx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Finspiredbycharm.com%2Fdelicious-and-easy-hors-doeuvres-ideas%2F&psig=AOvVaw1cjT1ddlyyvGc1lCMmDRbN&ust=1567042431230164) and the bar. However, since Tony quit drinking a year and a half ago, she’s instead mixing [mocktails](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiarYiitqTkAhW6HTQIHa70DbkQjhx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.self.com%2Fgallery%2Fmocktails-youll-actually-want-to-drink&psig=AOvVaw2aGo8Y1r9nYfl1HbEMMDHF&ust=1567042470844373) for everyone to drink.

Steve came over for a jacket he left at Sam’s place last month. “I can never tell if you two are the best friends a guy could have, or the worst,” he chastises.

“Rumlow’s just…” Sam grimaces, face screwed up in a gross frown. “Rumlow.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s a meathead. He’s full of all this Alpha privilege.”

“I can see how he comes across that way, but I’m sure there’s more to him. He can be…sweet sometimes.” Natasha gags and Sam groans. “I’ve seen him be kind,” Steve insists.

Sam rolls his eyes, which annoys Steve. “You’re usually such a good judge of character. I don’t know how you’re so wrong here, Cap.”

“I do,” Natasha mumbles under her breath.

Steve shoots a suspicious look at her for the passive-aggressive comment. “People are multifaceted. They have layers. Brock does, too. He’s not just one thing.”

“There’s multifaceted, and there’s people that you show one face to, while wearing another. The dude just seems untrustworthy, Steve. Besides, what are you even doing going on a date with Rumlow? What happened to James?”

And at the mere mention of James Steve is all the way done.

“IT’S JUST GODDAMN DRINKS! I DON’T NEED THE TWO OF YOU JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT ABOUT IT! I CAN GO OUT WITH WHOEVER I WANT!”

“Steve—”

He doesn’t wait to hear what else Sam has to say. He grabs his jacket and storms out, slamming the door behind him.

∞∞∞

Brock laughs. “What does that mean?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. [This](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397716666/) just looks like the type of place Tony would drink at.”

“What makes you think I don’t like a swanky bar every now and then,” Brock teases. Steve fixes him with a look that makes the dark-haired man laugh again. “Alright. You got me. I wouldn’t be caught dead having a beer in a place like this. I’m actually shocked they didn’t haul me out of here as soon as we walked in.”

Steve smiles at the self-deprecating joke. “Where do you normally go for a drink? Let’s go there.”

“Oh, no. I want there to be a second date. I’m not taking you to Sal’s. It’s an old, seedy cop bar that’s been at the bottom of Brooklyn since the 70’s.”

“Think I can’t handle a seedy cop bar? I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m Captain America, pal. You go there a lot?”

“With the Strike Team every now and then. Better than the hipster bars littering this city.”

“Hey, I like some of those places.”

“Which is how I know I shouldn’t take you to Sal’s.”

He knocks Steve’s knee with his own and slides a little closer to him. Steve turns his body toward him, accepting the invitation to get closer.

“Well, then maybe I should go with you guys next time. Strength in numbers if it gets out of hand.”

“You could. But I don’t think anyone really wants to go drinking with their boss, the patriotic legend.”

“Why not? You asked out the boss.”

Brock grins like the cat that got the cream. “And he said, ‘yes’.”

He leans in, kissing Steve…and it’s terrible. He’s aggressive without the passion; all tongue and spit. Steve slows down the kiss to a less forceful pace and slowly massages his tongue against Brock’s. The other man takes the hint and follows Steve’s cues, turning their kiss sensual and more pleasing. Steve moans into Rumlow’s mouth when he playfully bites his lip.

“What is it about you, Cap?”

“You do know you can call me ‘Steve’ given we’re making out at bar? And I don’t understand what you mean?”

“You’re all Alpha. Like a man’s man, but sometimes there’s this… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No. No, I like you’re whole…everything.” Steve smiles, blushing. “See? There. That smile. It kills me, but it’s not a reaction I’d expect from you.”

Steve debates if he should tell him. If he should share with Rumlow that he’s not really an Alpha. But he doesn’t know if his designation, something so intimate and committed, is knowledge he’d exactly want to give him. Steve wants nothing more from Rumlow than a one night stand, maybe even casual sex. However, telling an Alpha that you’re an Omega opens up a far more monogamous can of worms Steve isn't willing to explore with him.

“Maybe I’m just full of unexpected surprises,” he settles on evasively.

“Seems like it.”

“Can I surprise you again?”

“Sure.”

Steve leans into his ear. “Want to go back to mine?”

Brock chokes on his Coors Light, spitting beer all over his shirt and making Steve laugh.

∞∞∞

They made out the whole cab ride to Steve’s place. And in the front lobby. The elevator. The hallway. And finally, into the apartment.

They’re on the couch, kissing like teenagers, when Rumlow tries to kiss Steve’s neck.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t kiss my neck. I don’t like it.”

“That’s weird. Why?”

“It’s not weird, and I just don’t.”

Rumlow snorts. “Okay.”

Steve ignores his reaction and pulls him down to continue kissing. They’re going at it again when Rumlow moves his hand to Steve’s neck, trying to grip him. Steve pulls his hand away, lips still on him.

Rumlow grinds down on Steve, slotting their erections against each other in their pants. His hand moves again to Steve’s neck, and again Steve pulls it away, placing it on his shoulder. He moves his hand to Rumlow’s zipper and opens his fly, making the other man growl in anticipation. Steve reaches inside, griping the man’s cock with a pleasurable squeeze.

Rumlow’s eagerness takes over. He's all Alpha instinct, trying to grip Steve by his neck, and bite a claim into his neck.

“Brock, stop. Stop! STOP DAMMIT!” Steve pushes him hard, landing the other man on the floor, between the couch and the coffee table!

“WHAT THE FUCK, STEVE?!”

“I told you to stop.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You weren’t listening!”

“I thought we were having a good time!”

“…Me, too.”

“Then what the fuck is with these mixed signals!”

“I’m not giving you mixed signals!”

“Oh, buddy, you are a tease if there ever was one.”

And it’s at this exact moment that Steve hates the fact that Natasha and Sam were right. “You know what, Brock, I think you should go.”

“Oh, wait, come on, Steve. Can… Can we try this again? Please?”

“I invited you to my place with the intention of going to bed with you. Of wanting to have sex with you. And I ask you to do one thing and you don’t listen. Then you get angry at me for responding the way someone telling you ‘no’ should? That’s not ‘mixed signals’, Brock. That’s you ruining a perfectly good evening. And the only chance you had with me.”

“Really, Steve? You’re being dramatic.”

Steve scoffs at his audacity. “I’ve seen the results of a pushy Alpha that won’t listen or take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m aware. I’m not going to let you do that to me.”

“Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re an Alpha, too. And a goddamn superhero. It’s not like whatever I dished out you couldn’t take.”

“That’s not the— Just get out, Brock. Now.”

Brock zips his fly back up, all the while glaring at Steve who glares right back, refusing to break eye contact.

“This is exactly why I don’t fuck other Alphas,” he says, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “Too pissy about everything.”

“You can leave without the commentary.”

“Gladly,” he responds, missing the point.

Steve watches him grab his jacket and slam out of his apartment... “I got to stop screwing around with coworkers.”

* * *

Steve comes to a stop. He lets Sam catch up.

“I hate running with you. So much,” he says, out-of-breath.

Steve laughs, barely winded. “Let’s take a breath.”

“Oh, thank god.”

They rest on a [park bench](cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/tcJMEqhTCJS1ZI034fxP2l9iqkM=/0x0:2500x1668/1200x800/filters:focal\(1050x634:1450x1034\)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/62600823/prospectpark.0.jpg). Steve pulls his baseball cap down low as tourists pass by them.

Sam taps his shoulder with the back of his hand to get his attention. “How’d your date go, man?”

Steve groans.

“Look, I know me and Nat came at you pretty hard about it, but we were wrong. You’re an adult. You can go out for drinks with anyone you want to. Our opinion doesn’t matter. Yours does. I’m sorry. We were out of line. So, please, tell me about your date.”

Aside from his mother, no one’s ever been protective of him the way Natasha and Sam are. Not even Peggy. She was a capable woman, and saw Steve as equally capable, Omega be damned. It’s one of the many things he loved about her; they were always each other’s equal, despite their designations. Natasha and Sam see him as their equal, too, but he knows that their big brother and big sister routine is rooted in an understanding about Steve’s PTSD, his depression, and his loneliness. They don’t mean any harm in their overprotectiveness. They just love him. Like family. And family will always drive you crazy quicker than strangers will.

“I appreciate that, Sam…but you and Nat were right. About Rumlow.”

Sam’s so quiet beside him that Steve has to look over just to make sure he’s still there. He is. Staring hard at Steve, lips pursed, eyes narrow, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Sam?”

“I. Will. Kill. Him.”

“No, Sam—”

“Matter-of-fact, I’ll let Nat kill him.”

“Sam—”

“They’re going to need dental records to identify the body. Nat is going to murder like she’s never murdered before.”

“Do not tell her anything!”

“Why? Oh, you want _me_ to kill him. I’m down. I need a shovel, some tarp, and lye.”

Steve can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous friend.

“Oh, I am serious here, buddy.” And he is. Steve knows he is. “Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

He squeezes Sam’s shoulder, controlling his laughter. “Sam. Thank you. Truly. But I don’t need you or Nat to go after Brock.”

“Want us to get Banner to Hulk-out on him?”

“No. Not Banner either. I handled it. It’s fine. Brock Rumlow is no longer on my dance card. Forever and always.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense. What happened?”

Steve removes his hat, scratches the top of his head, squints at the morning sun in his face, then puts his cap back on. “He overstepped a boundary and I put him in his place. I’m still his boss and he’s still leader of the Strike Team. I’m fine as long as he can be professional, because that’s the only relationship we’ll ever have.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve nods. “100% sure. He is not someone I want to spend time with outside a mission.”

Sam frowns. “…I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I was never looking for much with him, and now it’s obvious why.”

“What about the guy you were looking for more with? Nat told me about James.”

Steve picks at an invisible thread at the hem of his shirt, not wanting to look in Sam’s eyes. “She tell you why I decided to slow things down?”

“Yeah, but she’s got her own theory. And I got to say, I might agree with her.”

He finally gives Sam his full attention. “Care to fill me in?”

“It’ll come to you. And when it does, I’ll be here to talk you through it.”

They seem to know something about him, believing something about him, they won’t clue him in on and it’s annoying. He wishes they’d tell him, so he could… He doesn’t know. Look out for it? See it coming so it doesn’t blindside him? Whatever it is they’re not telling him he knows is for his own good. Which is the part he hates, because ignorance isn’t always bliss.

Steve stands. “Got your second wind?”

“I hate you.”

Sam reluctantly pushes himself off the bench and jogs at an even pace. Steve’s good about slowing down just enough for him to keep up.

∞∞∞

Steve loves grocery shopping. As a kid he and his mother were trying to squeeze a dollar out of a dime so often they only had enough money for the basics: bread, milk, rice, eggs, potatoes, cheap meats from the butcher, cheese, and canned vegetables. And if they really scrounged, they’d have enough for his ma to bake something sweet.

Therefore, shopping in the 21st century is a luxury he takes full advantage of. He likes grabbing his cart and filling it with colorful packages of food. He likes talking to the butcher and the bakers at the supermarket and helping old ladies get things from the high shelves. He likes the million different types of breads there are now, how there’s an aisle just for water, and how pretty the produce look on display. He likes how hyper-focused everyone is on what they need on their lists that they never recognize him. He doesn’t mind the long lines; taking his time to skim through the gossip magazines at the check-out (except when they’re about The Avengers), and always grabs a candy bar for the road.

And he especially likes when he gets to pay. Growing up poor may build character, but it sure isn’t fun. He’s not excessive, like Tony (who’s always had money), but with a handful of life’s pleasures and needs he can be. Delicious modern food is absolutely a need and a pleasure.

So, Steve’s hauling six canvas bags of groceries on each arm when—

_“Hey, gorgeous.”_

“…James.”

“Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to drop in on you like this, but I’ve been trying to reach you for a while and I couldn’t get ahold of you. Darcy knows where you live, and… I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I was just worried about you. And I missed you— Do you need help with all this…?” James doesn’t wait for a reply and just grabs all the bags on Steve’s right arm from him. “You want to get the door?”

“What?”

James chuckles. “The door, Steve.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. My keys are…”

“Are they in your pocket?”

Steve checks his pockets. Low and behold-- keys. With nervous hands he fumbles trying to get the door open. “I can’t… Um… It’s—no wait, I-I got it.” He manages to unlock it.

“Steve.”

“Y-Yes?”

“This shit is heavy.”

“Oh, right! Yeah.” He pushes the door open and enters his apartment. James follows in behind him. “You can, uh, put them…”

James is already setting the bags down on the island in the kitchen.

James is in his kitchen. He’s here, in New York, in Steve’s kitchen helping him with groceries. For the last 21 days he’s gone to sleep thinking about him, and woken up, thinking about him. He’s spent hours sketching the shape of James’ hands and the intensity of his eyes. He’s memorized the serial number on his dog tags from the old S.H.I.E.L.D. file Fury gave him, and wrapped his hand around his hard cock every night while staring at the last picture James sent him before he went underground.

James is in his kitchen.

Steve hasn’t moved a muscle, so the other man takes the rest of the bags from him. He smells [fresh and clean](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397722441/), like a shower. He’s in a simple plain T-shirt and jeans with a wool cardigan wrapped around him. Steve watches him sit the rest of the bags on the counter. He leans casually against the sink and smiles at him. “Your place is nice. I know I showed up out of the blue, but you want to give me a tour?”

“I went on a date,” Steve blurts out.

“...You went on a date?”

He nods, holding back the bile turning in his gut. He’s never felt so guilty. Not even all the times he lied to join the Army.

“Is this date the reason I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks?”

“You’ve been in New York for 3 weeks?”

“No. I just got in two days ago, but I’ve been calling you. Texted you a few times, too.”

“I… I muted your number.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve… I know I was radio silent for a while there—”

“_Two months_.”

“...for 2 months,” James amends. “But if you wanted to end things, all you had to do was text me. I would’ve gotten the message when the mission was over. I could’ve dealt with it on the chopper back to New York, instead of wondering what happened to you, or what I did wrong. You didn't have to ghost me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I knew you had to go to ground, but it got too hard worrying about you, and not knowing what exactly is going on between us.”

“And so what, the date was a distraction?”

“Yes. That’s all he was. I swear.”

James crosses his arms and takes a breath, staring at the kitchen floor. “You don’t owe me an apology about the date.” He looks up at Steve, who’s face is open with hope and anticipation. “We aren’t bonded to one another. You’re free to go on a date with whoever you want. Wouldn’t be right for me to be angry about that. Wouldn’t be fair.”

How the hell could he have ever considered a casual fling with Brock Rumlow, when there’s _this_ _guy_ standing right in front of him?

“You do, however, owe me an apology for putting me on mute instead of just telling me how you felt. You could’ve gotten a message to me through [Everett Ross](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Everett_Ross) if you needed to hear from me that bad.”

“I didn’t want to compromise your assignment.”

James chuckles wryly. “Of course, you didn’t, boy scout.”

“I’m sorry.”

“...I’m sorry, too... Come here and kiss me, punk.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. James has him pinned against the fridge the moment their lips touch. It’s been almost 6 months since the last time they did this, but it feels like yesterday with the way their hungry mouths slot together so perfectly.

James takes off Steve’s jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Steve does the same with James’ cardigan as they moan into each other’s mouths.

James’ leg fits between Steve’s own, and the blond man grinds down on his thigh, panting.

“Fuck, sweetheart...”

Steve brings his lips back to James’, refusing to stop kissing.

James hands find Steve’s ass and squeezes before they move to the back of his thighs. He hoists Steve up. Steve wraps his legs around James’ waist and can feel the growing erection in James’ pants. He feels big, making Steve squirm, trying to rub himself against it.

Steve's hands carding wildly through his hair. “James...make love to me.”

“Oh, fuck…” James pulls away, taking a few steps back from Steve. His hair is all over the place from Steve’s hands running through it. His pupils are dilated and he’s trying to catch his breath from their intense kissing.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter,” Steve asks.

“Nothing. I…” He scrubs his hands down his face and through his hair. “I really want that. Like you wouldn’t believe...”

“But?”

“But we should probably talk about you being an Omega first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to have the next chapter up by next Tuesday! Hope you liked it :)
> 
> p.s.-- Sexy times begin the following chapter, just FYI ;)


	6. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a big decision about the future of his relationship with James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

“H… How?” Is all Steve manages, staring slack-jawed at James.

A corner of his mouth turns up in a cocky grin that Steve wants to both slap and kiss.

“You don’t smell like anything. Like, your own personal scent isn’t there. Not even sweat, or soap seems to stick to you. Which I thought was weird, because that only happens to Omegas on scent blockers.”

Alphas only give off a smell when they’re in “rut.” Whereas, Omegas constantly emit enticingly sweet pheromones that unfortunately make them susceptible to unwanted advances. Therefore, most Omegas take scent blockers.

Scent blockers were illegal in the 40s, so Omegas bought and sold them to one another in dark alleys and sleazy back rooms. Steve was so sick and indoors most of the time, away from other people, that he didn’t need them thankfully. But he’d heard stories. Stories about Alphas forcing themselves onto innocent Omegas and blaming their alluring smell for their sexual violence. Stories about Omegas eating garlic and onions to mask their smell when they went out, not bathing for days at a time, or rubbing urine on their necks to stave off vulturine Alphas looking for an excuse to rape someone.

So, when the [SSR](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Strategic_Scientific_Reserve) told Steve they were putting him on scent blockers, he didn’t refuse.

“Then in Bucharest, when we were at the café, I realized you were an Omega when I touched your wrist, and you wouldn’t let me anywhere near your neck,” James continues.

“Alphas aren’t triggered by E-Zones…” Steve concludes.

Omegas have E-Zones, or erogenous zones, that set off bells (endorphins), that heighten their sexual response to someone touching them in particular areas. Males have four zones: their neck, wrists, nipples, and inner thighs. While female Omegas have five zones: their neck, wrists, nipples, lower back, and inner thighs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission to touch you like that. I wasn’t trying to be underhanded, or even pacify you. We were flirting and I got lost in it for a second, acting on—”

“Instinct.”

“That’s not an excuse. I’m sorry. I don’t ever want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“...Are you sure?”

Steve nods. “I trust you.”

The feeling isn’t new. Steve’s known that James is a good man since meeting him. Since being read the riot act for endangering civilians and himself. Since Bucharest and kissing him on an airport runway. Since playing word games 5,000 miles away. Since James showed up on his doorstep and said he missed him.

“Good. Because if I want to go to bed with you, I need you to trust me.”

“I do.”

“Can we talk a little more?”

Steve nods.

“Why have you been lying about being an Omega,” James asks.

“War propaganda. Right after Project Rebirth, SSR thought touting me out as an Alpha made better sense in order to sell war bonds and boost troop morale. But they didn’t start putting me on suppressants until I rescued the Howlies in Azzano, to keep me safe.”

James’ face suddenly turns serious. “Steve, are you telling me you haven’t had a heat since 1943?”

“1942,” he corrects. “But if you don’t count the time I was buried under the Arctic, I technically haven’t had one in 12 years.”

“Steve, that’s still a really long time to suppress your heats… Suppressants aren’t like birth control; they’re supposed to be temporary.”

“I know, but growing up, if you didn’t have an Alpha or a Beta to share your heat with, you either had to painfully ride it out on your own, go to a whorehouse—which always got raided by coppers— or spend a week in an institution. Institutions cost money; we were penniless after dad died. And all I heard were horror stories about those places. A girl I knew from the neighborhood, [Bonnie](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Bonnie), was raped by the doctor that should have been taking care of her. Right in front of the nurses.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“So, yeah, when the Army and S.H.I.E.L.D wanted to give me drugs to save me from all that, and lie about my designation, I was fine with it.”

“Did Fury want you to keep taking the prescriptions and say you’re an Alpha?”

“He did a deep dive into my records and found all the stuff the SSR hid about my designation. He asked me if I wanted to keep claiming to be an Alpha. I said ‘yes’ because I didn’t know how much Omega rights had changed since the 40’s.”

“Have you never wanted to get off them?”

“I always figured I would…with Peggy…after the war.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

Steve forgets sometimes that there’s parts of his life story that the general public aren’t privy to. He’d been to the Captain America Smithsonian exhibit; he liked it but came away from it feeling even more lost and lonely. He missed all the people floating around the exhibit through movies and pictures and interviews. He missed the old Brooklyn. He missed the Army. He missed Col. Phillips and Erksine. He missed the USO girls. He missed Howard and the Howlies. All of them were ghosts on display, breaking his heart in two. But none of it spoke of how much he and Peggy were in love; such a well-kept secret.

“Peggy, was, uh, one of the f-founders…of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Margaret Carter?_Tha_t Peggy?”

Steve nods, fighting back the tears burning behind his eyes.

“The two of you had a relationship?”

“…Something like that. We were working toward it, but, um…yes, we were in love. And then I crashed a plane into the ocean.”

“Oh, my god, Steve…” James looks more wrecked by the whole situation than Steve does recalling it. “I didn’t know.”

“Not many do. Just The Avengers and my therapist. Not even Fury knows, I think.”

“Was she your Alpha?”

“Not officially. The most we did was kiss. She never got the chance to claim me.”

“Are… Steve, are…are you a virgin?”

Steve turns red as an apple, squirming a bit and shifting his eyes around the room like a nervous schoolboy. “I was…when I was brought out of the ice…but I’m not…anymore.”

When Steve woke up in the 21st century, he was angry more than anything. Peggy was alive, but old and riddled with Alzheimer’s. She didn’t remember him. She didn’t remember the man she loved that loved her back. That’s when the depression hit.

The serum doesn’t allow his body to consume alcohol or drugs like a normal person’s would. Therefore, drowning his sorrows in either would have been a fruitless option. What _was_ an option, was frequent, meaningless sex. Steve spent nearly a year fucking anything with legs, taking out his depression on men and women who wanted nothing more than a night with Captain America. It would have gone on longer, had Fury and Pepper not stepped in when the tabloids got wind of Steve’s carnal exploits. He hasn’t been with anyone since.

“You don’t want to talk about that, do you,” Steve asks nervously.

“You’re really fucking cute when you’re embarrassed.” James steps close to him. He kisses him, gentle and sweet. “No. Anything that happened before me isn’t my business.”

“You’re not… You’re not exactly what I’ve come to expect an Alpha to be. You’re a lot more understanding than what I’m used to.”

“I’m sorry the Alphas you know are pigs.”

“Not all of them, but enough.”

Steve pulls James to his lips, kissing him again. James deepens the kiss with an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist. Steve moves the brunet’s hand to his neck. James pulls his hand away like Steve’s skin is a hot coil on the stove.

“Steve...”

“I want you to.” James looks hesitant. “Please.”

“…The first time we make love, I promise to grip you. But not now.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to figure out what I’m going to do with you. Wipe that look off your face, pal. I just mean I have to figure out how much you can take. How slow we need to go.”

“Hopefully, not too slow.”

“We’ll go at whatever pace we need to.” James kisses him, massaging his tongue with Steve’s.

Steve’s kissed plenty of people, but not like this. Not this…hungry. That’s how it feels to be with James: hungry. Starved. Ravenous. And all he wants is to be devoured. “What can I say that’ll convince you to take me to bed?”

James grins. “It’s not going to hurt for us to take our time, Steve. I promise.”

Steve doubts that. Because it hurts now. Deep in his gut and pulsating through his erection. He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone in 8 years and he’s kind of aching for it. Especially from James.

“Spend the night. Sleep next to me.”

“That I will do.” James steps back and offers Steve his hand. Steve takes it. “Hungry?”

“Yes.”

“I want Ethiopian food. If I promise to make you breakfast in the morning with all this food, will you go out and eat _bayenetu_ with me tonight?”

“Well, if you’re not going to have sex with me, the least you can do is feed me.”

* * *

Steve knows, in hindsight, James probably thinks letting Steve crawl into his lap may have been a bad idea. Seeing as the blond man hasn’t stopped kissing him for the last 10 minutes and refuses to budge.

“Steve, hey. Hey. Can I have your attention please?”

Steve nips at James’ jaw. “You have it.”

“Can I have it long enough for you to eat the breakfast I made you?”

Steve runs his hands down the hard muscle of James’ bare chest. “I can’t eat and kiss you at the same time.”

“I’m aware of that, so I think we’re going to have to pick one or the other.”

Steve grins, grinding down on James’ cock, because he feels like a filthy imp right now. “Alright.”

But James lifts Steve from his lap to put him onto the barstool next to him. “No pouting. That’s not fair. Eat the pretentious [breakfast](https://www.cookingforkeeps.com/chive-cheddar-waffles-and-lox/) I made you.” Before Steve can protest, James is out of his seat and pouring himself another cup of coffee.

He spent the night at Steve’s as promised. They came back after dinner and crawled into Steve’s bed to watch the rest of the nature documentary Steve started two nights ago.

James fell asleep first, holding Steve against his chest. Steve doesn’t blame him, figuring James must have been exhausted having spent the last 5 months deep undercover then only making it back to New York just two nights ago. Steve’s a supersoldier and even for him the end of a mission sometimes makes him feel like he could pass out for weeks.

He took full advantage of James having knocked out first; staring unabashedly at his long lashes, full, red lips, and scratchy stubble. He ran his fingers feather-light along the grooves of hard muscle on James’ stomach and the tattoo on his left arm.

Steve loves [James’ tattoo](https://www.toptrendsguide.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Realistic-Wolf-Tattoo.jpg). He didn’t know if he would, but it’s art; a brilliant watercolor of a white wolf shrouded by swirling colors of blue and teal that resemble James’ eye color in different lights. It takes up his entire bicep and alludes to James’ CIA codename: White Wolf. Steve wanted to grab his sketchpad and plot every detail in his own version of it, but that would have meant getting out of bed and breaking from James’ arms. Instead, he stared at it, tracing it with his finger, until he fell asleep.

Steve bites into his food and immediately knows he won’t be doing any of the cooking in this relationship.

“Good? Because you’re moaning like it is.”

“It’s okay,” Steve teases.

“Liar.”

James’ phone chimes on the island. He picks it up, reading something and frowning before texting back.

“...Are you disappearing on me,” Steve asks.

James sets his phone back down. “Absolutely not.”

Steve puts his fork down and pushes his plate from him. He’s scarfed down half his food already. “If you have to…I’d understand. A lot better than I did last time.”

“Steve. I’m not going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

“We both know that might not be up to you.”

“It is. This last one, in Wakanda, was rough. I’m actually shocked me, Hope, and Wade made it out of that one alive, and with [Klaw](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Ulysses_Klaue) sent to The Raft, no less. They know I need a break. A long one. And I’m spending it with you.”

“What if next time I’m the one that has to leave?”

“I’ll be here when you get back,” James says assuredly. There’s something definite, finite, in his tone that Steve finds comforting. And sexy because of it.

“So, we’re going to take turns running off to save the world?”

“I’d like to run around saving it with you, but watching you throw yourself headfirst into danger wouldn’t be good for my blood pressure.”

“Didn’t you hear? I don’t do that anymore. Or at least I try not to.”

“Good to know. But I’d much rather we be in something other than imminent peril.”

“And what is that?”

“A real relationship.”

“We’re in a relationship,” Steve asks, wanting clarity, and to just hear the answer out loud.

“Yes, punk, we are.”

“An official relationship?”

“Yes.”

“You’re my boyfriend? And we’re going steady?”

James laughs. “Yes.”

Butterflies flutter in Steve’s stomach. He decides to tamper them down by being cheeky. “People in relationships have sex.”

“Some do, yeah.”

Steve wants nothing more than for James to jump over the island and attack. The predatory look on his wolfish face as he bites his lips, eyes raking over Steve, says he wants to. Badly. It gets Steve hot. His hands tremble with curiosity to the naughty thoughts currently running around James’ head. Because he’d let him. He’d let James have everything he wants. Use his body however he chooses.

“James…”

“You need to go to work.”

“I don’t have to…”

“But you should. Before I lose what little control I have left.”

“I—”

“I don’t want our first time together to be a hard fuck on the kitchen counter…as fun as that sounds.”

“I feel like you won’t be happy until I’m on my hands and knees panting for it.”

“You’re halfway there,” James teases, with that smug grin of his.

Two can play that game... Steve pushes off his seat, eyes focused unflinchingly on his boyfriend’s. He pulls his T-shirt over his head and tugs his sleep pants down. They pool around his feet and he steps out of them, gloriously naked and proud. If James gripped his coffee mug any harder, it’d shatter in his shaking hand. “I need a shower_. Before work_.”

Steve smiles, just as smugly as James had, walking to his bathroom. He hears the brown-haired man swear under his breath in what he thinks might be Russian. 

Maybe Rumlow is right and he is a tease. But at least he’s a good one.

* * *

The elevator doors open. Natasha is inside the lift.

“Going my way, handsome,” she asks.

“Depends on where you’re going, ma’am,” Steve plays along.

“Down.”

Steve gets on the elevator. “What a coincidence, that’s exactly where I’m going.” 

“Well, would you look at that, soldier. The stars have aligned.”

Steve laughs. “You definitely would have given [Rita Hayworth](https://www.google.com/search?q=rita+hayworth&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwigyOyLhrbkAhVB7J4KHRoEBk0Q_AUIDCgA&biw=1600&bih=757&dpr=1) a run for her money had you been around then.”

“I fancy myself more of a [Lauren Bacall](https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&biw=1600&bih=757&ei=mRdvXaHvNpXa-gTo3o2QBQ&q=lauren+bacall&oq=lauren+bacall&gs_l=psy-ab.3..0i67j0i20i263j0l2j0i67j0l5.66250.69706..70143...0.0..0.425.2598.0j9j2j1j1......0....1..gws-wiz.......35i39j0i131i67j0i131.P7_cpLkAd7A&ved=0ahUKEwjhn4CPhrbkAhUVrZ4KHWhvA1IQ4dUDCAs&uact=5) type.”

“I can see that.”

They stop on the 22nd floor. The doors open to Rumlow and three other Strike Team soldiers.

Steve’s smile turns into a hard scowl.

Rumlow immediately tenses up, face cold as they enter the lift. “Natasha. Cap.”

“Rumlow,” Steve acknowledges stoically.

Rumlow hits the button for the 10th floor. Steve stares daggers at the back of his head. Rumlow remains stock still, back straight, eyes forward. They radiate tension in the taunt silence of the box they’re stuck in together. Twenty seconds feels like an eternity, but they finally reach Rumlow’s floor.

“Cap.”

“Rumlow.” He doesn’t bother hiding the annoyance in his voice and catches the mumble under the other man’s breath as he and his team get off the elevator.

The doors close and Natasha is immediately in his face. “Tell me what happened. _Now_,” she growls.

“Nothing worth mentioning. I handled it.”

“Tell me what happened anyway.”

There are Alphas, and then there’s Natasha, who seems like a whole different breed of Alpha.

“He got a little out of line, but like I said, I handled it. We’re fine.”

“That didn’t look fine.”

“Natasha, I swear to you, nothing that devastating happened between us. But what did, was enough for me to know I don’t want to see him again. At least not romantically. Nat don’t make this bigger than it needs to be. We just want to do our jobs.” She raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “If it turns out Rumlow is incapable of being professional, if he makes me uncomfortable, then I’ll give you permission to kill him. Slowly.”

“Oh, I will. And that’s a promise.”

The elevator doors open. She backs out of his space and they exit into the S.H.I.E.L.D lobby. “Take me to a bar before I burn this building to the ground,” she demands.

“Wish I could, but I can’t.” 

“Why not?”

“I have plans. Sorry.”

“So does Sam apparently.” They make their way through various security doors before reaching a lower-level parking garage. “Who do you have plans with?”

Steve stops in his tracks. “Who does Sam have plans with?”

“I asked you first.”

“James.” And just saying his name makes Steve feel like a lovesick teenager. “He was waiting for me on my doorstep when I came home two nights ago.”

“Well, that’s a gesture.”

“I know. We talked for a while, then he stayed the night.” She raises an intrigued eyebrow at him. “I wish. He is insistent on being a respectful gentleman. I hate it.”

“Why?”

“…I told him. Well, actually, he told me. He figured it out.”

“And? Spill the hot goss, Rogers.”

Steve approaches his bike. “Later.” He climbs atop the [motorcycle](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Captain_America%27s_Motorcycle).

“Later? What do you mean ‘later’? You can’t leave me on a cliff like this.”

Steve revvs the engine. “Afraid I have to. Gotta go.”

“I want details. Juicy, graphic details, Rogers,” Natasha shouts after him as he takes off through the exit.

∞∞∞

Steve would have been more than happy to have James waiting for him in his apartment when he got home, but such is not the case. He left Steve’s place the morning after, having to stop by his parents’ place to “let them know I’m alive,” he said. Then today, around Steve’s lunch hour, he texts him an address and asks him to meet him there when he's done work.

Accordingly, Steve rides his bike to 10012 Thomas Jefferson Blvd. in [DUMBO](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dumbo,_Brooklyn), to a 10-story, modern building full of new, luxury apartments. He parks his bike in a visitor spot in the garage and takes the elevator up to apartment 5E using the security code James gave him.

Steve knocks on the door and James answers, opening it but blocking Steve’s view of the inside. “Glad you made it.”

“You give good directions.”

“Want to come in?”

“Yes.”

James swings the door open all the way allowing Steve a full view of his apartment. Thereby, showing off the dozens of glowing candles and rose petals all around the [modern apartment](https://tracychowblog.wordpress.com/2017/06/12/apartment-interior-design-in-modern-black-color-style/).

Steve is astounded. “James…”

James takes his hand, bringing him into the apartment. He closes the door and locks it. “I told you that as much fun as it would have been to go at it in your kitchen, I had better plans in mind for our first time together.” He leads Steve further into the condo, to the [master bedroom](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397748181/). It’s just as monochrome as the rest of the apartment but also gleaming with candle lit [lanterns](https://www.hayneedle.com/product/belham-living-brookfield-lantern-set-of-2.cfm?source=pla&kwid=OutdoorLighting%20iprefer&tid=THLA020-1&adtype=pla&kw=&&g_acctid=933-667-2123&g_campaign=PLA%20%7C%20Outdoor%20%7C%20Outdoor%20Decorative%20Accents&g_campaignid=2052058296&g_adgroupid=73444089055&g_adid=359638993591&g_keyword=&g_keywordid=pla-809974082809&g_adtype=pla&g_merchantid=5643243&g_productchannel=online&g_productid=THLA020-1&g_partition=809974082809&g_network=g&g_ifproduct=product&g_ifcreative=&tid=neng2052058296-73444089055-pla-809974082809-359638993591&gclid=Cj0KCQjw2K3rBRDiARIsAOFSW_5hz9bA8GgdQo3nFDw3viUlhrzww9kF3QrXuBaM69TKRKF3-3AufuAaAiZuEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) and rose petals everywhere.

James sits Steve down on the bed. He gets to his knees and unties Steve’s boots. Steve takes the opportunity to run his hand through James’ hair.

“I’m starting to think you like my hair more than me,” James jokes.

“I like the way it feels between my fingers. And it always smells good.”

James takes off his shoes and socks. “Italian bergamot, mountain spring water, and oakmoss. At least that’s what the [shampoo](https://www.bathandbodyworks.com/p/freshwater-2-in-1-hair-body-wash-023836348.html?gclid=Cj0KCQjw2K3rBRDiARIsAOFSW_5xaW_sqKZQvK6ctBcwiJoJi5awGncIlY44rpjFetebeQ81S3bxSG4aAsuUEALw_wcB&ef_id=Cj0KCQjw2K3rBRDiARIsAOFSW_5xaW_sqKZQvK6ctBcwiJoJi5awGncIlY44rpjFetebeQ81S3bxSG4aAsuUEALw_wcB:G:s&ef_id=Cj0KCQjw2K3rBRDiARIsAOFSW_5xaW_sqKZQvK6ctBcwiJoJi5awGncIlY44rpjFetebeQ81S3bxSG4aAsuUEALw_wcB:G:s&cm_mmc=GooglePLA-_-Paid+Search-_-211014613-_-15565019413) bottle says.”

“I like it.”

“I got [another one](https://www.bathandbodyworks.com/p/bourbon-2-in-1-hair-body-wash-023430475.html?rrec=true) that I’m about 85% sure you’d go crazy for.”

Omegas find themselves transfixed through all their senses when it comes to their Alpha. Especially during their heats. If Steve is this affected by James’ shampoo without one, he can’t imagine the wanton he’d turn into if ever they decide to have sex during Steve’s heat.

“A theory I’m happy to test with you.”

James kisses him, slow and affectionate, while taking off his jacket. He tosses it onto the bench at the end of the bed.

Steve reaches for the hem of his shirt, ready to take it off, but James stops him with a gentle hand that urges him to lay back instead. His hands tremble with nerves and skin flushes in anticipation as James unbuttons his pants. He lifts his hips as the dark-haired man slides his blue jeans off his legs, then feet. He sighs when James’ warm hand moves under his shirt, up his taut stomach to his sternum. He moves his hand back and forth in a caress; soothing. He’s calming him with Alpha techniques.

Steve breathes with the unhurried, rhythmic glide of the other man’s hand up and down his torso. His hands stop trembling. His skin goes from hot to a comfortable warm. The temperature of the room feels cozy, like a romantic cabin fire. 

James climbs atop him, hovering as his arms hold him up to look down at Steve. “We okay now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” James helps Steve out of his shirt. He tosses it behind him onto the floor by Steve’s pants. “Where can I touch you?”

“Everywhere. I want you to.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

James runs the pad of his thumb along Steve’s lips. Steve opens his mouth and sucks James’ thumb into his mouth. James groans as Steve closes his eyes and moans, working his mouth around it leisurely.

Testing, James pulls his thumb away. Steve chases it with his wet lips. “Want this back,” James teases.

Steve nods.

James rubs his thumb along Steve’s mouth again. “Christ, you’re obscene…” He gives Steve his thumb back at the same time he wraps his hand around the back of his neck and _squeezes_, **gripping him**.

Steve cries out, coming in his boxer briefs.

James smiles wickedly. “Wanted me to do it that bad, huh?”

Steve pants, swallowing gulps of air, trying to recover his breath… “You have no idea...”

James climbs off Steve, getting to his feet. Steve watches raptly as he takes off his [clothes](https://www.millionfeed.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/fall-outfits-for-men-autumn-male-fashion-and-attire-ideas-1506068550ng8k4.jpg). His tries and fails to suppress the little moan that escapes him at the sight of James’ hard dick; about 8 inches of uncircumcised flesh as thick as a beer bottle.

“Glad you like what you see, because trust me when I say you’re a lot to live up to.”

Steve knows the picture he makes. He knew the specimen he was made into by the serum and how blatantly it made people attracted to him. Even when he was small, he knew he turned a few heads every now and then when that sweet Omega smell pushed through the reek of sickness and sterile hospitals that seemed to always cling to his skin. But now, the only head he wants to turn is James’. The only person he wants to impress with his body is his boyfriend. And he’s happy he has.

James wraps his arms under Steve’s knees, and yanks him hard, bringing him closer. Steve’s ass hangs right at the edge of the bed. He takes notice of the [lube warmer](https://lovemypulse.com/) on the nightstand as James removes his [underwear](https://www.saxxunderwear.com/products/sxbb42f_wwg?variant=19448818237526&gclid=CjwKCAjwnrjrBRAMEiwAXsCc42821haS10EKFCogX7SI8hqaNXzpsSrRpM4gysgEmWZVX0gg_-jJEBoCE_wQAvD_BwE). His cock springs free, hard and wet at the tip, a long web of cum dribbling from the head onto the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

“Fuck… I bet you get so wet when you’re in heat…”

The last heat Steve remembers having, he soaked his underwear and pants with pre-cum without even having to touch himself. He covered the front of his stained pants with his art book and hurried home to lock himself away and ride out the wave of intense sexual yearning until it was over.

“Christ…” James bends down to take Steve’s leaking dick into his mouth, eager for the taste of him. Steve fists the bedding with a loud moan. James takes his time moving his mouth up the 10-inch length. He circles his tongue around the head, painfully slow, eyes on the blond shaking like a leaf under him. He sinks back down his pretty, pink cock, fondling his balls, pinching at the sensitive skin there.

“James. Please,” Steve begs, sounding so wrecked already.

James pulls off his cock and Steve whines. He waves his hand under the lubricant warmer and a generous amount pours into his palm. Steve spreads his legs wider for better access. James rubs the warm lube onto Steve’s entrance. He massages there, gently gliding his fingers up and down the puckered hole.

Steve sighs, falling into the pleasant touch.

James’ thumb plays with his entrance, rubbing him there in a pattern of soft circles, up and down, and mild tugging at the rim. James attempts to push his thumb inside, but there’s resistance and Steve tenses.

“I know you said it’s been a while since you’ve had sex, but when’s the last time you touched yourself here? You’re really tight.”

“I… I don’t. I touch myself. Just not there.”

James hooks Steve’s left leg over his shoulder. “Breathe for me.”

Steve takes a deep breath. Then another one. And another one. In….and out… James comfortingly runs his dry hand along Steve’s ribs. Steve relaxes, taking calming breaths, feeling the warm air around him and James’ rough hand touch his skin. He melts into the bedding.

James slowly pushes his thumb inside Steve against the pressure of his tightness. “Keep breathing for me, baby.” He presses his thumb harder into him, building an easy rhythm. “That feel good?”

Steve nods, completely sated.

James removes his thumb and replaces it with his middle finger. He kisses Steve’s inner thigh and the other man moans high and pleading.

James takes his finger away again. He waves his hand under the warmer for more lube. He plays with Steve’s opening, rubbing circles into the puffy hole. Steve’s panting when James finally slides two fingers into him, stretching him.

“I can’t believe how tight you are…”

“…Does it bother you?”

“Not in the least.”

Steve bites his lip, stifling a shameless whimper.

James licks up his cock while digits deep into him, pushing his fingers in to the hilt. He curls them and finds that special spot.

“Oh, my god! James!”

Steve used to be embarrassed with how loud and vocal he is in bed. He’s had a lover or two tell him it was a turn off. But it wasn’t until he brought it up to his therapist, feeling insecure about it, that she helped him to see it was a good thing. His responsiveness lets his partners know just how turned on he is and helps the other person pick up on cues that could get Steve off. His awkwardness about it may have waned, but his lack of sexual companions increased over time. Until now.

James guides Steve’s dick into his hot mouth while pushing a third finger into the supersoldier. Steve shakes and squirms, crying out and tugging at James’ hair. James continues pressing on Steve’s prostate. Steve’s shuddering and trying to not rip a chunk of James’ hair from his head with how hard he’s pulling at it.

James moans around Steve’s cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever had between his lips. The vibrating sensation and wet drool from the spy’s mouth makes Steve’s back arch from the bed.

James lets Steve’s cock slip from his mouth. He nearly cries at the loss.

“I should stretch you with a toy.”

“No. I just want you.”

“Steve—”

“James, please,” he begs. “I need you.”

He can see the indecisiveness on James’ face. The “should I, should I not” plaguing him. “What color are you?”

“What?”

“Red for ‘no’, or ‘stop’. Yellow for ‘slow down’ or ‘I need a minute’. And green is ‘good’ or ‘don’t stop’. What color are you?”

“Green. I swear.” Steve sits up, leaning forward to kiss away his boyfriend’s worry.

“Move to the headboard. Lie on your back.”

Steve does as told, scooting to the headboard, shoulders against the pillows there. James climbs atop the bed, joining him. He hovers over the other man between his legs. Steve touches James everywhere: his chest, stomach, arms, thighs, neck, and backside.

“I love your body.”

James licks into Steve’s mouth. “You’re not so bad-looking yourself, gorgeous.”

Steve gets told he’s attractive all the time. But for some reason, James makes him feel like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

He leans over the bed to the nightstand. He waves his hand under the lube warmer and lets it pour into his palm. He reaches for James’ cock with his slick hand, wrapping it around him. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steve murmurs, making James chuckles. The brunet man is about as thick as he is long. Steve plays with his foreskin and tugs at his balls. He rubs the pad of his thumb at the soft, exposed slit. James groans his name and it’s the best it’s ever sounded to him.

Steve slides closer, angling himself in the perfect position to take James’ dick. He tries to guide it to his opening, but James takes over, rubbing the head against his pucker.

Steve braces himself, holding on to James’ shoulders, as he gradually pushes the mushroom-shaped head past Steve’s rim. Steve’s eyes roll back into his head as he moans loud enough for James’ neighbors to hear.

The spy continues, inch by inch into Steve, breaching him. Steve feels every drag of the heated burn and deep pressure spreading him wider. He wants to cry he’s never felt so full.

“James,” Steve gasps in a breathy pant.

“What color?”

“Green. Oh, god, green.”

“Thank god. Because you feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Steve licks a long stripe up James’ neck to his chin. “Yeah?”

Their tongues play together, licking into each other’s mouth with no real finesse. Just a greediness that makes them eager and sloppy.

James grinds down hard, bottoming out, and growling at the feel of Steve around his hard on. “I’m going to move.”

Steve nods. It’s the only response he can give currently, enraptured by the sensory overload of being filled to the brim.

James strokes slow but sure, letting Steve get accustomed to his chubby cock working in and out of him. He kisses his neck sweetly in between whispering filthy words in Steve’s ear. The hot sting of James’ dick dragging back and forth through him lessens. His hands run over James’ shoulders, down his strong back, and grabbing his ass, encouraging him to go faster, deeper.

James speeds up his cadence. Steve moves with James, meeting his rhythm and putting them in sync. His legs tighten around James’ waist.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Touch yourself.”

Steve wraps a hand around his dick, stroking it. James fucks him faster, harder. Steve keeps pace with the hand around his member. Steve’s head is leaking. James rubs his fingers at the wet tip and brings them to his mouth to taste.

“Make me come. Please.”

James stops, flips Steve over, and hauls him against his chest. He slams his cock back into him and wraps a firm hand around the Avenger’s throat. Steve grabs a handful of James’ hair with one hand and pulls on his dick with the other. The other man hits that special spot again and Steve cries out. Over and over and over James fucks into him, hitting his prostate with the full force of his thick head. Steve’s all nerve endings and heat. He can’t keep a thought in his head other than how good James feels inside him.

James grabs his hips with both hands and spears him on his erection. Steve lets go of his dick to brace his hands against the wall as his lover pounds into him without apology. He’s practically screaming.

James grabs his cock and jerks him off roughly.

Steve feels it building in his toes, creeping up his body; in his gut, lower back, up through his chest, until his whole body is an electric current. His nails dig into the dark paint of the wall and he’s coming hard all over James’ hand.

James feels Steve clinch around him as his orgasm hits. “Fuck.”

Steve grabs James’ cum-covered hand and brings it to his mouth, licking it clean.

“Oh, god! Steve! STEVE!” James comes, howling, with a bruising grip on the other man’s hips.

Steve’s limbs give out and he crumbles atop the bed, taking an out-of-breath James with him.

They lay there, spent, recovering their breath, hot and sweaty.

“Are you okay,” James asks,

“More than okay.”

James grins. “You’re bad for my ego.” He pulls out of Steve. “Stay.”

“Not a problem,” Steve tells him, exhaustion taking him over.

James climbs out of bed to the master bath. It’s at the opposite side of the room, behind a wall of glass with a door on the right.

Steve wants to crawl under the covers, but his body is too limp to move.

James returns with a warm washcloth and a glass of water. He sets the water on the nightstand. He sits back down on the bed and cleans Steve up; wiping the sweat from his back, arms, and legs, then delicately cleans the cum dribbling from his swollen hole. Steve winces.

“Sorry. You’re going to be sore for a bit, but at least there’s no tearing. I really should have stretched you longer…”

“I think you forget that I’m a supersoldier with accelerated healing.”

“That doesn’t mean we should be reckless with your body.”

Steve wants to argue but he knows James is right, so he says nothing. He opts instead to muster enough strength to turn over and kiss his concerned boyfriend. “Can I stay the night?”

James tosses the cloth on the nightstand. “Where else would you stay the night?” He grabs the water and takes a gulp. Steve takes it from him and drinks the rest.

James pulls back the covers. He maneuvers Steve beneath them and tucks in beside him as the big spoon. James strokes his hair, then kisses his neck.

“You had an Omega before.”

“How’d you know,” James asks.

Steve twists around to face him. “You’re really…prepared. And thoughtful. Like when you wanted to talk first. And tonight. You wanted tonight to be special. To mean something to me.”

“You mean more to me than I ever expected you to.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know… But not this. Hard to describe right now.”

Steve understands the feeling. They’re getting away from the topic so he brings it back around: “What happened? To your Omega?”

“Connie and I were too young. Our feelings were real, but how to handle them— clueless. You can read all the books and take all the classes you want, but until you’re really a bonded pair, you have no idea what you’re doing. I promised myself that I would learn from the mistakes Connie and I made. I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

“I think you’re doing alright. As far as I can tell.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you just blush? You did. You without that cocky grin of yours is a sight.”

James rolls his eyes. “You really are a little shit.” James kisses him. “Any more questions?”

Steve shakes his head. “None that I can think of.”

“Good.” James yawns. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re kind of bossy, you know.”

“You like it.”

And Steve is never going to admit that aloud. Instead, he nudges James onto his back and cuddles up against him, laying his head on his chest.

“James?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. I know we didn’t wait long, but it was still worth it.”

James leans down and kisses the top of Steve’s head. “Absolutely worth it.”

* * *

“A what,” James chuckles.

“Don’t laugh. It’s our Anti-Valentine’s Day. Nat and I do it every year. Then when Sam joined The Avengers, Nat and I recruited him into the club, too.”

“Where you guys eat junk food and watch horror movies all night? On Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes, jerk.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am! _As I understand it_, my boyfriend wants to spend the most romantic day of the year next week with his two best friends, eating [Cheez Balls](https://www.samsclub.com/p/planters-cheez-balls-canister-2-75oz-6ct/prod23603889?&source=ifpla&itemNumber=980222905&CAWELAID=730010300002279867&pid=ps_CSE_Google_PLA_1933804954&wl0=&wl1=g&wl2=c&wl3=350522976649&wl4=pla-456053469320&wl5=9033449&wl6=&wl7=&wl9=pla&wl10=1247713&wl11=online&wl12=%7Bproductid%7D&wl13=&wl15=72146694193&wl17=1o5&veh=sem&kclid=65bd1e2b-5dc7-413e-92b7-d99b71ba0288&gclid=CjwKCAjwnrjrBRAMEiwAXsCc47iapx1-yOWrTXMwDSwGjWIVsCZInuSlElF8CosSG3Uk74Lyh-lDGhoCL0QQAvD_BwE) and drinking Mountain Dew, while marathoning zombie movies.” James sets down the [lunch](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjw86SXibbkAhVKoZ4KHcCKDwMQjhx6BAgBEAI&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.smorgaseats.com%2Fhot-buffalo-chicken-and-bacon-grilled-cheese%2F&psig=AOvVaw3iGqw1k9OGhTBPkHUADtIt&ust=1567648842830228) he made Steve in front of him. It looks amazing and smells incredible. James leans in close, kissing him. “Instead of letting me take him to a nice dinner then back home to fuck him until he can’t come anymore.”

Steve’s breath hitches at the thought of James making love to him all night. No matter how often they find themselves in bed as of late, Steve still can’t get enough of him. “I want that…but I can’t leave Nat alone on our holiday.”

“She won’t be alone. Sam will be there.”

“Sam’s only going because I am. He had plans, too, but cancelled them for Anti-Valentine’s Day. For Nat. Just this once, and I promise, every Valentine’s Day after belongs to you.”

“Bold of you to presume I haven’t gotten sick of you by next year.”

“Ha, ha.”

James kisses his neck. “Go. If you must.”

“Thank you.”

“Guess I’ll take Darcy to [Gallagher’s](http://www.gallaghersnysteakhouse.com/) instead. For the third year in a row.”

“Gallagher’s is still around?”

“Oh, no, Rogers, you’ve forfeited your chance to be wined and dined at the fanciest steakhouse in New York.” Steve pouts. “But if you’re good I’ll take you to [Flex Mussels](https://flexmussels.com/) for your birthday.”

“A gym?”

James laughs. “A seafood place. You’ll love it. Now, eat your lunch.”

* * *

Steve’s watching security footage of [Whiplash](https://villains.fandom.com/wiki/Whiplash_\(Marvel_Cinematic_Universe\)) escape a Super Max prison when there’s a knock on his office door. He looks up to a floral deliverywoman holding a bouquet of [100 red roses](https://www.bellarosagardens.com/product/brg-heart-wrapped-rose-bouquet-100/) wrapped in pink paper, shaped into a heart.

“Captain America— I mean, S-Steve Rogers?”

“Yes?”

“These are for you, sir.”

Steve gets to his feet, floored by the gift. He’s never gotten flowers before. Ever. They’re massive, nearly hiding the poor woman tasked with delivering them to him. He takes them. “T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s a card.”

Steve grabs the card attached to the ribbon around the bouquet: **Happy 1st Valentine’s Day, punk. Have fun tonight. Love, James xoxo**

Steve’s not a weepy man by any means, but he feels close to crying by the gesture. Romance is still so new to him...

“There’s more,” the deliverywoman tells him. She hurries out of his office.

Steve searches around for his cellphone, wanting to call his boyfriend and thank him but he can’t find it. He must have left it in Tony’s car when they went to lunch.

The deliverywoman returns…

“Oh. My. God…”

Steve puts the flowers down on his desk and helps her get a [giant stuffed teddy bear](https://amadashoponline.com/products/1pc-huge-size-260cm-american-giant-bear-skin-teddy-bear?variant=9223169507380&currency=USD&cmp_id=2085594400&adg_id=77922789598&kwd=&device=c&gclid=CjwKCAjwxt_tBRAXEiwAENY8haIeaFAs1o-2xdxQeX7seqD4wPrxpkh9kSF3vlNLr5XDTWrQsHwDJRoCxaMQAvD_BwE) through the door. Steve hauls the thing into a corner, it’s head almost touching the ceiling as it slumps against the window with his dopey smile. He wants to feel put-upon or irritated, but he can’t. The thing is too adorable, and he’s being wooed by his ridiculous boyfriend; hard to be annoyed by that.

“One more thing,” the woman tells him, out-of-breath.

“I can—”

“It’s an easy one.”

She exits again and Steve runs his hand over the soft fabric of the bear’s head. He loves it. He loves the flowers and he apparently loves—

“[Heart-shaped donuts](https://www.google.com/search?q=heart+shaped+donuts&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi2kuO1obXkAhXWFjQIHeMdDhMQ_AUIDCgA&biw=1600&bih=708&dpr=1),” the deliverywoman presents to him in a Dunkin’ Donuts box.

Steve laughs at the silly treat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Would you like one?”

“I would, but I don’t want to spoil the fancy dinner my husband’s taking me to tonight.”

“Well, here.” Steve pulls his wallet out and hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Champagne tonight. On me.”

“T-Thank you, Captain America.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he reads her name tag, “Susan.”

Star-struck, Susan almost trips over her own feet as she waves ‘goodbye’ to Steve and leaves.

Steve looks at his roses, the giant bear, and box of donuts in his hand… “Someone is definitely getting a blow job when I get home.”

∞∞∞

Sam grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Natasha’s lap. She’s lying between them on the [plushy couch](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/342344009170990047/); her head in Sam’s lap and feet in Steve’s. They haven’t moved for _hours_. There’s empty potato chip bags and candy wrappers strewn all over them and the floor, a half-eaten, extra-large pizza on the coffee table, a [mushroom burger](https://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/grilled_beef_and_mushroom_burger/) Natasha drunkenly abandoned when she decided she wanted popcorn instead, sits on the end table closest to Sam, still in its Styrofoam container, untouched. Sam’s sipping on the [strawberry milkshake](https://tipsybartender.com/recipe/strawberry-rum-milkshake/) Natasha poured rum into, in between scarfing down [vegan tacos](https://www.eatloveeats.com/vegan-tacos-refried-cannellini-beans-asparagus/) and stealing her popcorn. Steve, on the other hand, has just polished off a pint of cookie dough ice cream, after consuming half the cheese pizza, a dozen [Linzer cookies](https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/mini-linzer-cookies-recipe-1941642), the fries that came with Natasha’s burger, two bags of salt-n-vinegar potato chips, a 3-liter bottle of [generic root beer](http://www.dayssoda.com/product/3-liter-rootbeer/), and the box of heart-shaped donuts James had delivered to his office.

Natasha’s ditched her wine glass and has gone to drinking her [Rose](https://www.shopwinedirect.com/white-girl-rose-nv.html) straight from the bottle now. Steve has no doubt she’s going to throw up before the end of the night, but she seems to be managing alright for now.

“What the hell, Sam. This isn’t scary. Scary movies only,” Natasha complains.

“_Shaun of the Dead_ is great,” he counters.

“But not scary. Blood and guts on Anti-Valentine’s Day. Thems the rules.”

“Don’t we see enough of that as Avengers?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Zombies aren’t real though.” She’s slurring her words. Steve knows in a minute he’s going to have to pry that bottle from her hands.

“Thor’s not supposed to be real, but we tend to fight aliens and Nazis that have cybernetic dinos with him on the occasion.”

Steve laughs. “He’s got you there, Nat.”

“Either way. I want scary. Turn this off and put on _Hellraiser_.”

“If you put on _Hellraiser_ I’m going home,” Steve protests.

“Okay, no _Hellraiser_. _Prom Night_?”

Sam snaps his fingers. “That’s a good one.”

“_Prom Night_ it is.” Natasha stumbles off the couch to the tall shelf full of DVDs beside the TV.

“You know, everything’s digital now. Even I know that,” Steve boasts.

“I love my movie collection! I’m not replacing anything. No matter the convenience,” she tells him. She finds the movie and staggers to the TV, flopping down to the floor to change DVDs. She hiccups and belches loudly. It makes Steve laugh. Drunk!Natasha would be his favorite Natasha if it weren’t for the fact that he knows the reason she’s so drunk, and gets this way every year, only allowing he and Sam to see her this way, is because of how lonely she is.

He gives her a helping hand in getting back to her place on the couch. Sam finds the remote under the donut box and starts the movie.

They’re barely through the credits when Natasha clears her throat. “…Thanks,” she says softly. “I know there’s other places you two would rather be.”

“We’re good here, Nat,” Sam tells her. “Right, Cap?”

“Always,” Steve assures her.

She chuckles wryly. “Are you two really trying to convince me that you’d rather be here instead of getting laid?” They don’t answer quick enough. “What I thought.” She guzzles the rest of the wine in the bottle. “Well, at least regale a girl with your tales of woo.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam feigns.

“So, Sam wants to keep pretending he and Maria aren’t seeing each other. Steve? How goes it with Agent Barnes? Did you know that when he was Strike Team leader at S.H.I.E.L.D his nickname was ‘The Winter Soldier’?”

“No. He never said.”

“Wait. Who knows Maria and I are dating,” Sam butts in.

“It’s because his kill shots were as cold and harsh as the winter,” Natasha tells Steve, ignoring Sam.

“Like, does everybody know? Even Banner? Who never knows anything?”

Steve shrugs. “Makes sense. That’s pretty much how it looked when he took out Zemo.”

“Because Maria is a very private person, and I like her. I don’t want her scared off. Especially by Tony.”

Natasha grabs the milkshake from Sam’s hand and takes a sip. It’s hers now and they both know it. “So…how goes the long, hot nights with him?”

“Nat!”

“I told you I wanted details and I meant it. Now, spill. Besides, who else are you going to talk to about how he makes your body sing every night before you fall asleep in his arms.”

Steve blushes.

“Should I tell Maria everybody knows?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Sam,” Natasha groans. “You two aren’t exactly subtle about it. You think you are but you’re not. We all know and we’re all supportive of the two of you having found one another. Even Tony, who’s been on his best behavior in not bringing it up because Pepper threatened to do him bodily harm if he did. So, relax and bring her to game night. As your _girlfriend_. Anyway, Steve, you were about to tell us how your sex life has improved beyond comprehension…”

_Both_ Natasha and Sam await eagerly for him to gush about James.

“He’s a really good kisser,” Steve reluctantly confesses.

“And?”

“And…he has… an incredible…body,” tells them bashfully.

“And?”

“And…the last time…we…had sex was…nice.”

“Nice? Just ‘nice’,” Sam asks, dumbfounded.

The last time Steve and James had sex (before he came over) was ahead of nice. It was amazing. Such is every other time they make love. Steve hasn’t been home in two weeks, opting to stay the night at James’ place, giving in to their heady attraction to one another 3 to 4 times a day, depending.

“What else should it be?”

“You’re willfully being obtuse, Rogers, and I won’t stand for it.”

“How so?”

“I have my ways. You know I’ll find out eventually.”

Steve does know. And he’d rather her attempts at being nosy be made with him than for Natasha to go snooping, or even worse, asks James personal sex questions about them face-to-face.

“If I show you a video I took of me going down on him, will you leave me alone about it for a week?”

“No guarantees but cue it up anyway,” Natasha says.

That’s about as good a ‘yes’ he knows he’s going to get. Steve takes his phone from his pocket and thumbs through his apps and folders for a moment. He finds it and Natasha immediately grabs the phone from him and turns the volume up all the way. Sam pauses the movie. Steve tries hard not to look embarrassed as his “siblings” watch a video of him giving head to his boyfriend.

James' grunts and groans, along with the hard sucking sounds Steve’s mouth makes working him over, fill the otherwise quiet apartment.

“You’ve got pretty good technique, Rogers.”

“Yeah, Cap. You don’t neglect the ‘family jewels’ either,” Sam agrees.

“Thanks…? I guess…”

Sam squints at the video, then a sly, gapped-tooth smirk grows on his face. “You know, Cap… From this angle, the way the video is shot, it kind of gives the impression your boy didn’t know he was being filmed…”

“Okay. That’s enough.” He snatches the phone from them. Sam cracks up laughing.

“We didn’t get to the finale,” Natasha squawks.

“I swallowed. The end.”

Natasha grins. She turns to Sam: “Told you he wasn’t a spitter. Spitters are quitters.”

“I hate the both of you immensely.”

Natasha wraps an arm around his shoulders, hugging him. “Thank you.” She kisses his cheek. She does the same to Sam. “Thank you, too. Best brothers a girl could have.” She jumps up.

“Where are you going,” Sam asks.

“More wine,” she shouts, heading to the kitchen.

Steve and Sam exchange nervous looks.

“I cleaned puke out of her hair last year,” Sam reminds Steve in a snappy whisper.

Steve sighs. He did. While Steve pretended to be asleep on the couch to avoid such a fate. Guess it’s his turn. Looks like it’s going to be an even longer night…

∞∞∞

The door opens. James is on the other side, yawning wide with the most adorable bedhead. He’s in only a pair of boxers, scratching his belly. “Hi,” he says sleepily to Steve.

Steve smiles. His boyfriend is an adorable bear cub. “Hi.”

James steps aside to let him in. James closes the door and locks it. “How was Anti-Valentine’s Day?”

Steve follows James to the bedroom as he turns out lights in the front rooms. “It was fun. Until I had to clean up Nat’s puke.”

James climbs into bed. He takes his underwear off under the covers then tosses them to the floor. “I’d pay big money to see Natasha Romanov ass over tea kettle drunk.”

Steve undresses, too. “Not like this.” 

“She must’ve been drinking wine. I’ve gone to the bar with that woman and seen her kill a bottle of vodka like it was water.”

Steve climbs into bed naked. “I’m just glad it’s only once a year that she gets white-girl wasted.”

James groans. “I don’t know who taught you that phrase, but I can guess.”

Steve chuckles. He wiggles in closer to his boyfriend. James wraps an arm around him, holding him tight against his chest. He yawns again, while trying to say something.

“What?”

“I said, 'I got to get you a key'.”

“To where?”

“Here, punk. A key to my place. So I don’t have to crawl out of bed when you show up at three in the morning. And because I want you to have one. I like when you’re here,” James says drowsily.

Steve smiles. The butterflies are back, fluttering away in his belly. “I like being here.” James is already back to sleep, snoring quietly at the back of Steve’s head. Steve entwines their fingers, still smiling to himself. “A key would be nice.”

* * *

“Why do you want to go off your meds, Steven?”

“I’ve been on them for way too long. And I’ve been lying about my designation since I enlisted in the Army. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

His therapist, Dr. Houston, smiles as she makes a note on the yellow legal pad in her lap. He likes her. She’s nice and asks all the right questions, but never leads Steve to an answer. He has to figure it out for himself. And when he does, she encourages him toward positivity and growth. He doesn’t know if this is how therapy is supposed to work (it’s new to him) but he’s glad it works for him like this.

“And?”

“And I’m seeing someone. Someone I want to be completely intimate with. Someone I like enough to give not only my body to, but a sense of spirit, you could call it…?”

“I think that’s a good way to put it. How are things with James?”

Steve’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. James is his favorite subject. “They’re good. Great. He’s…incredible. I didn’t think he would be, or that we’d be this good together, but we are, and I’m… I’m happy.”

Steve grows quiet. Stiff. He’s staring at the floor, mind racing.

“Steven? Steve?”

“Sorry. I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever said that before.”

“Not since waking up from the ice?”

“Not ever... I thought I was a happy kid but looking back now, I was always so sick and bullied and we were poor, and both of my parents died. I was miserable a lot of the time. I didn’t really have any friends. I was an Omega with no Alpha and told to lie about being one. I wasn’t happy. For a long time.”

“Certainly, you were happy with Peggy and your war buddies, The Howling Commandos?”

“…Yes. They made me happy. The Army and Peggy made me feel like I belonged. I fit in for the first time. I liked being included. Made me feel good for the first time. Made it easier to not miss my parents so much.”

“Is that how you feel now? Why you’re happy now?”

“No. It’s… It’s a different kind of happy. A scary kind of happy.”

She crosses her legs and leans forward. The gold bangles on her wrists jangle as she moves. “How so?”

“I’m scared I’m going to lose it. And that it’ll be all my fault.”

“Do you mean the home you’ve made here in the 21st century? The friends you call ‘family’? …Or just James?”

Steve doesn’t want to answer that. He doesn’t want to speak his biggest fears into existence.

“Steve. Do you think having sex with James, off your medication, will somehow…keep things together? Is that why you want to?”

“No. There’s no underlining reason. I want off my medication because of the exact reasons I said I didn’t want to take them anymore. James is a big deal to me. He’s an Alpha, and I want to treat him like one. He’s a good man. I want to be good for him.”

“Do you think you’re not a good enough Omega for him?”

Steve chuckles lightly. “I wasn’t good enough for Peggy. But she loved me anyway. We loved each other. I hate that I never got to show her how worthy I am of her.”

“If she loved you, then she already knew that, don’t you think?”

Steve adjusts the throw pillows on the [couch](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AecsPgGygEg2jAt5A4imFqRvFmt1HADgqkm37OMZ1sSRYOK6uZLajzmEFUwCA7EU1YVseqyKWfmBU9ZIHZWBxZM/) with him. “Fair point.”

“Do you think James loves you? Is in love with you?”

The question throws him. He grabs the glass of water off the coffee table in front of him and drinks a bit. “I don’t know. I can’t answer for him.”

“But you believe he cares for you. Deeply. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be open to the idea of sharing such a personal experience with him.”

“I know James likes me. I like him, too. And that’s good enough for me.”

∞∞∞

“Good morning, Captain Rogers.”

“Morning, Dr. Ross.”

[Dr. Betty Ross](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Betty_Ross) is the daughter of the Secretary of State; a hawkish former general who never met a war he didn’t like. Steve’s met him a few times and the man adores him for some reason. Too bad Steve can’t say the same. Steve hates the man’s beliefs on foreign policy and intervention. He also hates the way the secretary tries to bully Banner into not dating his daughter.

Bruce and Betty’s relationship isn’t new. They’ve been on and off since the bio-scientist became The Hulk. But mostly off given Bruce’s former destructive exploits as Hulk. And then his membership as an Avenger. Around Thanksgiving, they decided to try again at a romantic courtship. Bruce has learned to control his anger and how to use Hulk to his advantage. It’s taken years of therapy and patience and meditation, but Banner has finally gotten to a good place with merging his two selves. Steve’s happy for him. And happy he has Betty as support.

She washes her hands at the sink. “What brings you in today? Your check up isn’t for another 3 months. Everything alright?”

“Yes. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Betty was personally assigned as Steve’s physician by her father the second he was out of the ice and awake. It wasn’t until Bruce had joined The Avengers permanently that Steve found out Betty was his ex-fiancée.

“Well, what’s going on,” she asks, drying her hands.

“I’m seeing someone.”

She smiles. “So I hear.”

“Well, the guy I’m seeing is an Alpha. I told him I’m an Omega.”

“You did? That’s such wonderful news, Captain Rogers.”

She’s such a genuinely lovely person. Steve has no idea how Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross is this kind woman’s father. Her mother must have been a saint.

“Thank you. But I was wondering if we could start the process of…taking me off scent blockers. And suppressants.”

“You want to share your heat with him.”

“I do.”

“Captain Rogers, being on scent blockers and suppressants was always your decision. If you don’t want to take them anymore, that’s entirely up to you.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to lie about being an Alpha anymore. And I want to be with James intimately in every possible way I can be.”

“I think that’s very sweet. Might I make a suggestion though? We take you off scent blockers but lower your dosage on suppressants significantly for the next few months. That way you won’t find yourself abruptly going into heat in the middle of a mission. I’d hate for that to happen.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees.

“We’ll ween you off both gradually over the next few weeks. Otherwise, your super metabolism will immediately push you into a heat if we just take you off the meds cold turkey.”

“Right.”

“Does your boyfriend take anything for his rut?”

“Only when he’s away on a mission. Since he’s been back, he’s stopped taking the combo scent blocker and suppressant he was on. Just vitamins now, from what I can tell.”

“He must be on a small monthly dosage during those times.” She grabs her prescription pad and fills it out. “Bring in any scent blockers you have left at home. Start taking this,” she hands him the prescription, “in about a week, once every 3 days, before bed.”

“It’s not a shot?”

“No. Lower dosages of suppressants are in pill form.”

He slides off the exam table. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“You also might want to talk to Director Fury about going off your meds.”

The last thing he wants to do is go into detail with Nick Fury about his heat, but she’s right. As the head of S.H.I.E.L.D and “Avengers wrangler,” the man is owed a conversation.

He nods. “Right.”

“And Steve? From one Omega to another, have fun.”

She winks at him and Steve smiles wide as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify the timeline of this fic:
> 
> Steve on suppressants = 1942  
Steve's plane went down = 1945  
Steve woke up = 2012  
Steve's depressed sexcapades = 2013  
Prologue/Chapter 1 = 2018  
Chapter 2 = May 2021  
Chapter 3 = July/August 2021  
Chapter 4 = October 2021  
Chapter 5 = February 2022  
Chapter 6 = February/March 2022  
Hope you liked it!
> 
> p.s.-- This fic is going to be LONG. Probably about 80k of words, because we have A LOT of sex and drama to get through, folks.


	7. Nutmeg & Oranges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's heat hits him hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told through James' POV and a portion through Natasha's, but it's still Steve's story more than anything.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, thrashing around, screaming. James runs a gentle hand through his hair, shushing his cries, trying to coax him out of the night terror he’s having, as easy as he can. “Steve, come on, baby… Come on. Wake up for me, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes fly open in fear. He’s gasping for breath, frozen with panic.

James presses on the inside of Steve’s wrist. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you…” He softly kisses Steve’s cheek. “Shhhh… I’m here. You’re here with me. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

Steve’s eyes dart around, trying to recognize where he is. His breathing relaxes gradually, clarity coming to him. His fists unclench the sheets balled into his tight hands. They’re shaking though. He swallows thickly, gaining his breath back, but his chest heaves in big gulps of air. The anxiety steadily wanes… The tears at the corners of his eyes, however, slide down his face.

“I was drowning,” he says, voice wet and unsteady. “It was freezing cold and I was drowning.”

James holds his hand. “No, you weren’t. You were here. With me. We’re in bed. We’re okay. You’re okay.”

Steve sobs, hard, bodily sobs and loud wails. James holds him close, letting him cry it out.

In all the nights they’ve spent together so far, this is the first time Steve’s PTSD has reared its ugly head. And honestly, James is surprised it took this long…

* * *

When James thinks about Steve, bold, bright colors come to mind. Summer; clear blue skies and warm weather. So, it makes sense to him to buy the vibrant [sunflower bouquet](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/521925044309782329/) from the [flower stand](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/854769204257263312/?nic=1) up the block from S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, instead of the roses.

He heads inside, bypassing the two security guards at the lobby desk; he’s known those guys for years. But if Maria found out they let a former employee up without checking him in, she’d terminate them quicker than they can blink. So, he waves quickly and sneaks toward the elevators.

James makes it up to the 25th floor where Steve’s office is located. The corridor is empty, and Steve’s assistant is out to lunch, as indicated by the 'BACK IN 1 HOUR' sign on her desk just outside of Steve’s office. James pokes his head in— Steve is at his desk, in [civilian clothes](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/338544096989064271/), reading through case files with that determined look he gets when he’s working.

James raps lightly on the door. “Hey, gorgeous.”

He has no idea how Steve’s smile hasn’t brought about world peace yet. It’s the kind of smile that could, if possible.

Steve breaks from his chair. “Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

They meet in the middle of the room.

James shrugs. “Was in the neighborhood. Thought you’d like to see my face.” He hands Steve the flowers he bought him.

“Always.” They kiss. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. You eat yet?”

“A bit ago, with Pepper, Sam, and Maria. We had [Phở](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pho). I didn’t like it, so I can absolutely eat again.”

“Everybody likes Phở.” Steve frowns. “Almost everybody.” James extends his hand. Steve takes it. “Come on. I’ll take you to [Buvette](https://ilovebuvette.com/about). They make a ham and _gruyère_ sandwich with a sunny-side egg that’ll make you change religions.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Steve blurts out.

He refused to talk about it this morning when James brought it up over coffee. Then snuck off to work while he was in the shower. He’d be pissed about that if it weren’t for the fact that Steve upset is more important to him.

“You don’t have a thing to be sorry about.”

“I feel like I do.”

“You don’t.”

“It’s just… I… That...hasn’t happened in a-a while and I—”

“Stop. Stop.” James puts a hand over his mouth. "Steve. I don’t need an apology or an explanation."

“…I’m embarrassed.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t be.”

Tears well in Steve’s eyes. James never wants to see this face again. He hates it. He hates the pain and humiliation etched into it. Steve should be smiling. He should always be smiling.

There’s a [plushy sofa](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/360358407680594111/) against the wall by the door. A [Jackson Pollack replica](https://www.etsy.com/listing/655572119/jackson-pollock-style-print-abstract?gpla=1&gao=1&utm_campaign=shopping_us_ExtraLargeWallArts_sfc_osa&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=google&utm_custom1=0&utm_content=18256655&gclid=CjwKCAjwk93rBRBLEiwAcMapUfs7WVEknEmiUy07DHxiEBRssspYFR03Iil_CeMx5vk5NhnZwzZiphoC7-MQAvD_BwE) hangs above it. James leads Steve over. They sit.

“You’ve been through a lot. In what is a very short amount of time. Big parts of your world are gone. And you’ve spent most of your life fighting. Having things torn down, people killed, right in front of you. Loss has been a big part of your life. I expect night terrors. I expect a lot more actually, but either way, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You can count on me. And you don’t have to be embarrassed,” James tells him.

Steve rubs his thumb along the silky petal of one of the sunflowers in his bouquet. “Did you bring me flowers because you felt bad for me?”

James lifts Steve’s chin so they meet eyes. “No. I bought you flowers because they’re beautiful. And I like seeing you smile.”

“You say things and I… You’re so sure of how you feel about everything and sometimes I can’t decide which running shoes to wear.”

“The [red ones](https://www.kohls.com/product/prd-3498235/nike-downshifter-9-mens-running-shoes.jsp?skuid=84601100&ci_mcc=ci&utm_campaign=MENS%20ATHLETIC%20SHOES&utm_medium=CSE&utm_source=google&utm_product=84601100&CID=shopping15&utm_campaignid=196833692&pid=googleadwords_int&af_channel=CSE&gclid=CjwKCAjwk93rBRBLEiwAcMapUct8LD52t1JNLiDPH7KfK13bcRKLpf_Kku9Uf3R5kjhu1XWTOYMdeBoC8aYQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds). Always the red ones.”

Steve’s back to smiling and all is right with the world once more.

James pulls Steve into his lap. “Can I tell you something?” Steve nods. “My first mission with the CIA was a month long and with the mob, trying to get close to [Kingpin](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Kingpin) while he was hiding out in Rio. That man is terrifying. I had to sit back and watch him do things that were horrible. And I couldn’t just ignore it after it was done. It lingered, stayed with me, even though I helped put that asshole away in prison. I had bad dreams, too. Dreams so bad I wet the bed. Twice. Darcy sent me to go see someone. A professional. I needed it. Your situation is unique, but you’re not alone, Steve. I get why last night happened and why there might be more nights like that in the future. Don’t feel like I lost respect for you, because I haven’t.”

Steve kisses him. James surges up and deepens the kiss. Their tongues massage one another as they make out heavily. James figures he said the right magic words. Steve’s hands card wildly through James’ hair while James’ hands grab handfuls of Steve’s round ass.

_“Hey, Cap— You got to be shitting me!”_

They break apart quickly at Rumlow’s sudden presence. Steve jumps up from James’ lap. His lips are wet and kiss-bitten red. “What do you want, Rumlow,” Steve asks in his all-business ‘Captain America voice’.

“Barnes? You’re fucking Barnes?!”

“Mind your business, Rumlow. Jesus. Still as intrusive and nosy as ever,” James espouses. He turns to Steve. “You know half the rumors floating around this place he started, right?”

“Fuck you, Barnes. You’re just pissed I’m a better CO than you ever were.”

“You couldn’t command a flock of birds to fly, let alone an entire Strike Team. So keep telling yourself that, you rodeo clown.”

“Jesus Christ, Cap, had I known weepy Alphas is what you’re into I’d have told you a sob story on our date.”

James’ eyebrows meet his hairline. “Excuse me?! Crossbones is the asshole you went on a date with when I was in Wakanda?!”

“Is Barnes the guy you were all in your feelings about?!”

“…Yes,” Steve answers both of them.

James’ head is 5 seconds from exploding.

“I-I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Steve defends. “This wasn’t on purpose.”

“Which makes the whole thing even better,” Brock smirks. He’s relishing in James’ irritation. “Guess Cap didn’t mention taking be back to his place that night either?”

“That’s enough, Rumlow,” Steve snaps. But Brock is laughing his head off.

“I swear to god, Brock…” James threatens.

Rumlow stops laughing; face cold and serious. “You want to step outside, Winter Soldier? Go a few rounds and fight for Cap’s hand?”

James pops up from the sofa to his feet. “Gladly.”

“Stop! Both of you! Now,” Steve yells at them. “No one is fighting. I’m done with the Alpha posturing. You wanted something, Rumlow?”

Brock sucks his teeth, staring daggers at an unflinching James. “Nah. It can wait,” he tells Steve. “Until next time, asshole.”

“Definitely,” James growls.

Rumlow leaves giving James [the finger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4X01Ietku4).

“James—”

“You told me you didn’t sleep with the guy you went on a date with.”

“I didn’t! Yes, I took Rumlow back to mine, but all we did was kiss. I threw him out after he got handsy.”

“I will fucking kill him.”

“Fine. I’ll add your name to the list.”

“So, you were warned he was an asshole and went on a date with him anyway?”

“…Yes, but… I didn’t really believe he was at the time. I made a mistake. Lesson learned. Trust me.”

“I believe you, it’s just… It’s fucking Rumlow! Crossbones is a real piece of work. I know him. He’s going to bug you even more now that he knows we’re together.”

“I can handle Brock. What I can’t handle is you judging me for going on one terrible date with him. I already feel like an idiot for not listening to everybody telling me not to.”

James doesn’t want that. No more than he wanted Steve to feel bad about his night terrors. Rumlow may be worthy of scorn the world over, but not Steve. Besides, there’s plenty of hideous exes hiding in James’ closet, too.

He grabs Steve by his sweater and yanks to closer. “…I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now, kiss me. Please.”

Their lips collide and the taste of Steve clouds all his angry thoughts about Brock Rumlow.

There’s been something in Steve’s kisses lately though… They’re hungrier than normal. Sweeter, too. Like he’s been eating nothing but ripe berries all day. And James can swear he smells something, something fragrant, pleasantly confectionery, hidden beneath his skin whenever they’re together like this. The kiss is all the better for it, but the nagging mystery also drives him mad, trying to solve it…

* * *

Trolls. Asgardian trolls [rainbow beamed](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Bifrost_Bridge) to Earth to cause mayhem, looking for a fight with the mighty Thor. James can’t believe this is the universe he lives in. There’s an infinite amount of [multiverses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVvcOQk6G0Q) out there, and he’s jealous of the one where he lives a nice, peaceful life as a strawberry farmer in California, with a certain blond built like a Grecian god, who makes jam from the berries, and sells it at the local farmer’s market. But he’s in this one. This universe. The one with fucking trolls. And a boyfriend who ran off to fight them with his friends.

Now he knows how Steve felt when he ran off to Wakanda. He feels a migraine coming on...

There’s a knock at the door. James gets up to answer it.

On the other side are three stunning women, a young man, two teenage boys, a teenage girl, a 5-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl. Each of the women are holding a foil-wrapped dish in their hands. He recognizes only one of them, however, because who doesn’t know Pepper Potts-Stark, Iron Man’s wife?

“Hi. Hope you don’t mind us dropping in on you like this, but Steve said you’d be at his place and we thought it’d be a good time to introduce ourselves to you,” Pepper says with a friendly, apologetic smile.

“Oh, um, okay. C-come in.”

He steps aside to let them into the apartment. Darcy joins him at the front door. “This is my best friend, Darcy.”

“Hi, nice to meet you, Darcy. Steve talks a lot about you: ‘spunky girl with a cool style’, I think he said.”

“Always did like that Captain America,” Darcy smiles.

“We do, too,” says the short brunette with large, dark eyes in the [adorkable](https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/adorkable-slang-definition) clothes. “I’m sorry. I’m Laura. [Laura Barton](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Laura_Barton). Clint’s wife. These are our monsters: Cooper, Lila, and Nate.” The kids wave ‘hello’.

“Clint? As in Hawkeye,” Darcy asks.

“That’s the one.”

“Whoa.”

“Oh, it’s not that impressive. Impressive is him remembering to load the dishwasher.”

“And these are my spawn: [Harley](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Harley_Keener), Peter, and [Morgan](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Morgan_Stark),” Pepper introduces. They each say ‘hello’ to James and Darcy.

“Are you Uncle Steve’s boyfriend,” Morgan asks outright.

“Yes. I am,” James tells the youngest Stark.

“Uncle Steve said you were hot like burning,” she replies.

Darcy cracks up as James flushes red and warm by the unexpected bit of gossip.

“Morgan,” her mother admonishes. But the little brunette simply shrugs. She is her father’s child.

“I’m Betty,” says the tall, dark-haired woman. She’s curvy with the bluest eyes and soft, ethereal looks. James can immediately tell she’s an Omega by her smell— roses and vanilla. “I’m Bruce’s girlfriend,” she introduces.

“The Hulk has a girlfriend,” Darcy asks, eyes wide. James jabs his elbow into her ribs. “What? Legit question,” she whispers at him.

But Betty merely laughs. “Bruce Banner has a girlfriend. The Hulk…has a friend,” she clarifies.

“I get it,” Darcy nods.

“It’s nice to meet you ladies, but I’m sorry. Steve’s not here…obviously,” James says.

Darcy takes everyone’s coats. Peter, Pepper’s middle child, helps her hang them up in the coat closet.

“We know,” Pepper smiles. “It’s just, on days like today, we kind of get together and enjoy each other’s company.”

“’Days like today’?”

“You know, ‘Avengers Assemble’ and all that,” Laura explains. “We get together to make the worry less… challenging.”

“And we brought food,” Betty adds. “We didn’t know if you had any dietary restrictions, so we made a bit of everything. I’ve got a [blackberry cobbler](https://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/mama-s-blackberry-cobbler/), Laura has [vegetarian lasagna](https://www.thebakerchick.com/white-spinach-lasagna/), and Pepper brought [lamb ragu](https://www.thebakerchick.com/white-spinach-lasagna/).”

“Oh, wow. That’s really nice of you guys. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem. We do this all the time. Kind of have to. Being surrounded by each other, going through the same thing, is comforting,” Pepper assures him.

James has to admit the idea of it does sound comforting. He’s been worried sick about Steve, refusing to watch anything other than the news so he’s updated about the situation in San Francisco. Hope is currently there with her fiancé, Scott, and has been giving him on-the-ground info as well.

They move to the kitchen and set down their dishes on the island. He watches Pepper move about the room fluidly, knowing where the plates and silverware are kept. She’s been here numerous times before. Doesn’t surprise James; Steve’s mentioned how close he and Pepper are and how often they have lunch or dinner together, with or without Tony present.

“We usually play board games or cards,” Betty tells him. “But since this is your first time with the ‘Collateral Damage Circle’ we won’t institute the ‘no cellphone or TV’ ban.”

All of the kids fist pump and hi-five, dying to be on their phones and watch TV.

Laura sets the dining table. “It just gets to be too much,” she says of their rule.

“Then we won’t watch,” Darcy pipes up. James shoots her a glare. “What? James, you were driving yourself crazy with all your worrying, staring at the TV for hours and checking your phone. I’m worried about Steve, too, but you need a break. _I_ need a break! So, we’re going to eat this delicious-looking food the wives brought over and play fucking Boggle because I can’t watch you lose your shit any longer. Sorry for swearing in front of your kids.”

“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself,” Pepper winks at her.

James huffs. “Fine.”

The kids groan at their tech being back to banned.

Darcy kisses his cheek. He can never stay mad at her longer than 30 seconds and they both know it.

Betty whispers to him: “I brought some cheap bourbon and good weed. We’ll go up to the roof and have our own party if you still feel a little stir crazy later.”

Pepper might be Steve’s favorite, but Betty is now his. “Thank you.”

She nods to the dining table. “Come eat. Laura’s a really good cook, and me and Pepper try.”

James laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely his favorite. He joins everyone at the table. “Is the ‘Collateral Damage Circle’ really what you guys call yourselves,” he asks.

Pepper laughs. “Laura’s dark sense of humor came up with that one.”

“What? I think it’s funny,” Laura supports.

“So not, mom,” her daughter, Lila, groans.

“Okay, understandably, I get why the kids don’t think it’s funny, but I got to add some levity to all this superhero stuff. If I don’t, I’ll end up in a straightjacket,” Laura admits. She serves James a plate of her lasagna.

Pepper corks a bottle of white wine. James had no idea Steve even owned an [electric wine opener](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SPSJSXZ/ref=sspa_dk_detail_5?psc=1&pd_rd_i=B07SPSJSXZ&pd_rd_w=d6mKi&pf_rd_p=45a72588-80f7-4414-9851-786f6c16d42b&pd_rd_wg=bh3L5&pf_rd_r=JZQXVEVCBFHT739RV66H&pd_rd_r=6200abae-c5e9-4717-90a3-174009942b56&spLa=ZW5jcnlwdGVkUXVhbGlmaWVyPUExNzVXQzE3QUFOUVBVJmVuY3J5cHRlZElkPUEwOTA2MjYzMlBTVkVJRFBKR1JBWSZlbmNyeXB0ZWRBZElkPUEwMjc1NTY4M0pHSlZLTE9UWFg2TiZ3aWRnZXROYW1lPXNwX2RldGFpbCZhY3Rpb249Y2xpY2tSZWRpcmVjdCZkb05vdExvZ0NsaWNrPXRydWU=)… “I’m with you, Laura; we got to laugh about all this. I realized that after my second kidnapping.”

“Um…what,” James asks.

“Mom’s been kidnapped two times,” Pepper’s eldest, Harley, casually tells him. He’s young but not a teen like Peter. James would say early twenties, probably just turned twenty-one. He could have sworn Steve mentioned Tony’s oldest was going to [CalTech](https://www.caltech.edu/) at one point…

“Three times,” Pepper corrects, pouring a glass of wine for James. “The last time was by [The Mandarin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandarin_\(comics\)), I think…” She scrunches up her face thinking, like she’s trying to remember if she fed the dog before they left.

“No. That was the second time,” Peter corrects his mother, “[Madame Masque](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madame_Masque) kidnapped you the third time.”

“Oh, that’s right! God, your father has some interesting ex-girlfriends…”

Laura points to herself. “Held hostage twice. Once with all the kids by my brother-in-law, [Trickshot](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barney_Barton).”

“Uncle Barney is such a fail supervillain,” her son, Cooper, says, shaking his head in disappointment.

“You’re telling me, kid.”

Betty raises her hand. “Kidnapped twice and held hostage once. Do I win,” she jokes.

The table laughs but James feels sick to his stomach. Is this what he has to look forward to? Being kidnapped by grotesque villains? Held hostage? Always being on the lookout for enemies that want to hurt him just to hurt Steve? He’s a spy and assassin, he can hold his own against some C-List threats, but actual, A-squad villains?

It’s suddenly a little too hot and getting too hard to breathe. “Betty.”

“Roof?”

“Roof.”

Betty takes his hand as they head for the door. Betty grabs her purse on the way out and James can see the neck of a bottle of[ Bulleit Bourbon](https://www.totalwine.com/spirits/bourbon/small-batch-bourbon/bulleit-bourbon/p/91467750-1?glia=true&s=1410&pid=cpc:Shopping+US+WASH+ENG+SPART:::google:&gclid=CjwKCAjwk93rBRBLEiwAcMapURlDT4Nt9M63RhH9YO4ZF_Bkj5NjS8NYUMNdlGVTETbZbVOFaEvlfhoCCDIQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) sticking out of it. They take the back stairs up to the roof. They’re not even halfway there before Betty cracks the seal and takes a swing. She passes it to James. He guzzles a mouthful and breathes.

She loops an arm through his and they take the steps a little less hurried this time.

They reach the roof and prop the heavy door open with an old paint can full of heavy rocks. There are string lights hung up around the area, and an [old couch](https://www.jdogjunkremoval.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/couch-removal-540x540.jpg) up here, but James avoids it. He’s learned his lesson from forgetfully plopping down on it after a heavy rainstorm the night before. He opts to stand at the ledge. Betty joins him.

The city looks amazing all lit up at night. It’s by no means quiet, but at least it’s pretty to look at.

Betty takes another swing of bourbon. She passes the bottle to James. He takes another swig, too.

“How many times have you had to watch Bruce almost die?”

“Too many to count. Wish I could tell you it gets easier, but it doesn’t.”

“…Why be with him then? Why do any of you…stick around?”

Betty smiles a crooked smile. “Because as hard as it is, not being with them would feel even worse. I’ve tried being without Bruce. It felt… I was…empty. Loving someone that much is insane, yes, but I do. We all do. And if…if something were to ever happen to Bruce, I wouldn’t want him to feel like he died alone. I want him to know he was loved. More than anything. And that he’s missed, beyond belief.”

“You’re not terrified something’ll happen to you?”

Betty laughs darkly. “Every day. But I’m scared for him more than myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d know what he’d do if he ever lost me. He’d tear the planet in half. Then end it all.”

“You’re right: loving someone that much is insane.”

She smiles. “Steve may not know it yet, but he’d burn the world to ash over you. I don’t care what Peggy Carter meant to him.”

James guzzles some more brown liquor. “That’s a subject I dare not touch.”

She takes the bottle back and screws the cap back on, throwing it into her bag. “I get it. But at some point, you’re going to have to.”

She’s right. And he kind of hates that she is.

_“Did we scare you?”_

James and Betty turn to Pepper and Laura approaching them.

“Sorry. We became a lot really fast, didn’t we,” Pepper apologizes. “Maybe Day 1 is a little too early for jokes about kidnappings. It’s just how we cope with being in love with stupid superheroes.”

“I’d much rather be in love with one than be one,” Laura declares. They all agree. She takes James' hand. “You know, we’re not just here to make food. We’re good at talks, too.”

Betty bumps his shoulder. “He knows. Now.”

“I do. Thank you.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “I just needed to…breathe.”

“Would it help if I told you two things," Pepper asks. "First, our boys took out [Ulik](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulik) like the badasses they are. They’ll be home by tomorrow afternoon. Maria text me a minute ago.”

“Oh, thank god,” James exhales, pulling at his hair. It’s amazing how long he’s felt like he’s been holding his breath.

“And second, your friend, Wade, is here.”

“Shit. I forgot I asked him to come over. His smart mouth and bad jokes are typically a good distraction.”

“Well, you better get down there, Agent Barnes, before I do, because he’s been here only 5 minutes but spent all 5 of those minutes hitting on my 17-year-old son,” Pepper tells him.

From what Steve’s told him, Pepper is one of the most caring, tender, and kind people he’s ever met. However, she has a dark side that will not hesitate to protect her husband and her kids from _any_ threat.

Which is why James runs back into the building to Steve’s apartment like his hair is on fire.

_Fucking Wade…_

* * *

“Steve? Steve,” Natasha calls into the men’s locker room. She steps inside, not caring if anyone is offended by her presence. Luckily, the place looks empty. “Steve!”

Steve ran off the quinjet so fast Natasha thought he was being chased by a ghost. The blond bombshell has been acting strange since they took off to fight an army of trolls in San Francisco. He’s been irritable, nervous, and looking a bit piqued. And was especially rundown during and after the fight. He slept the whole way back, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but he seemed vexed in his nodding off. Steve’s already as pale as whole milk, but his skin looked nearly translucent, and was covered in plentiful sweat.

If Natasha didn’t know any better, she’d swear Steve was coming down with something, but she knows the supersoldier can’t get sick, so that’s not possible.

Neither was the odd smell wafting from him when they reached New York.

They should’ve been back yesterday but stayed an extra day to help with rescue and clean up.

Steve was assisting first responders with first aid to hurt civilians when after a couple hours he stumbled over to Maria and demanded they leave immediately. On Captain’s orders, Maria packed it in and got the superheroes onto the jet. Steve flew off the plane as it touched down and headed into the Tower.

Jarvis told Natasha he was in the men’s locker room. She would have sent Sam to check on him, but he was admitted to the hospital on the 4th floor for his sprained wrist. Maria went with him.

Therefore, Natasha took it upon herself to find her friend.

She hears water. A running shower. She heads over there and marches all the way to the one at the end. Steve’s uniform, belt, and boots are tossed on the floor before the shower. Inside, Steve sits on the tile floor, letting the water beat down on him. He’s breathing heavy and shivering.

She clambers into the [stall](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3d/71/26/3d712632b70d79ba1cdffb035560bf00.jpg) with him, getting her hair and uniform all wet. The water is freezing cold. “Jesus, Steve, are you alright? What happened?”

His eyes are blown wide, dilated. She can barely see the blue in them.

“I need James,” he hiccups. “I’m in heat.”

“Fuck.”

∞∞∞

_“Are you home?”_

“Yes,” James answers.

_“Good. Be there in five.”_

The call ends and James is left staring at his phone both confused and curious. He shrugs and sets his phone down on the counter and opens the fridge, pulling out two bottles of Stella.

Darcy accepts the beer James offers her. “Who was that,” she asks.

“Natasha.”

She raven-haired woman spits beer all over her ample cleavage. “Black Widow?!”

James laughs. “Your middle school crush on her is hilarious.”

Darcy wipes her boobs with the dishtowel she snatches off James’ shoulder. “There is nothing middle school about the thoughts I have about her. What did she want? Are they back? Steve’s home? Do I have time to do my hair?”

James resumes chopping vegetables for the [Greek salad](https://www.foodiecrush.com/greek-salad-with-chicken/) Darcy insisted he make her. “She didn’t say, but I assume so. Why didn’t Steve call me though…? Your hair is fine, by the way.”

“Fine or amazing?”

Her silky, midnight hair is up in a [pomp ponytail](https://blogocosa.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/pin-up-girl-hairstyles-creative-40-pin-up-hairstyles-for-the-vintage-loving-girl-gallery.jpg) accessorized with a [red rose hair comb](https://www.dhgate.com/product/white-red-rose-flower-hair-combs-wedding/449239192.html) that matches her blood red lipstick.

“It is 100% amazing,” he assures her.

“What about my [dress](https://www.amazon.com/Ixia-Polka-line-Pinup-Dress/dp/B00FBR0DGS?th=1)? It’s cute, right?”

“Are you really trying to get Natasha’s attention?”

“Hello! She’s an Alpha and hot and a superhero and hot!”

“You said ‘hot’ twice.”

“For emphasis!”

James laughs. His best friend is ridiculous and adorable. He kisses her cheek. “You look absolutely fuckable.”

“That’s what I needed. Thank you.”

The intercom by the door buzzes. James exits the [kitchen](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397795659), crossing the room to buzz Natasha in. He peeks into the kitchen and catches Darcy fussing with her hair in a compact mirror. He shakes his head at her.

“I see you through my mirror. What?”

“You’re adorable.”

“I thought you said I was ‘fuckable’?”

Before James can respond, there’s a hard pounding on his door. It makes Darcy jump.

James returns to the front door.

“Wait,” Darcy exclaims. She adjusts her boobs, showing as much cleavage as she can, then leans against the wall, trying her best to look both casual and sensual. “Okay. Open the door.”

_“James!”_ Steve’s voice shouts from the other side of the door.

James quickly unlocks the door and swings it open. Steve falls into his arms; he’s covered in sweat, clearly exhausted, and as limp as a ragdoll.

Natasha and Sam come in. James takes notice of Sam’s arm in a fresh cast.

“What happened? What’s wrong with him?”

Steve’s moaning and groaning like something hurts. He won’t stop burying his face in James’ neck, kissing him there, rubbing his sweaty forehead against his skin. His hands are shaking as he holds on for dear life to James, clinging to his clothes. James holds him close, stroking soothing circles on his back. The spy catches an overpowering scent… Like, Christmas cookies and crisp citrus; piquant meets tart. James pins it down in a second— nutmeg and oranges. He wants to bury himself in it, rub it deep into his skin, taste it, and… “Oh, my god…”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “That’s what we’ve been dealing with for the last hour.”

“He’s on suppressants.”

Natasha and Sam exchange looks.

“What? Tell me.”

“He said he stopped taking them two months ago,” Natasha says. “We thought he told you. Clearly, he never mentioned it like a dumbass.”

“Jesus Christ. Why didn’t you take him home?”

“When he was verbal, he demanded to come here. And was adamant about it,” Sam informs him.

“Like punched a wall adamant,” Natasha adds.

Steve runs his hands through James’ hair and bites at his neck, ignoring the other people around them.

“Steve. Steve? Hey, sweetheart, can you talk to me for a second?”

“You smell good,” Steve moans. He whines and gropes James’ crotch through his pants. James grabs Steve’s hand and puts it back in his hair, distracting him.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Sam says.

“You guys can’t just dump him here?”

“Why not,” Natasha asks. “He’s _your_ boyfriend. We _need_ to leave him here. Because honestly, as an Alpha, I cannot be in the same room with him anymore. I’ve shown enough self-control as is.”

“Nat’s right. We can’t leave him anywhere else. He won’t be safe. Even at the Tower. And we definitely can’t leave him alone.”

“If we take him to an Omega Center it’ll out him before he’s ready to reveal that to the world,” Natasha adds. “The best thing is for him to be here. With you. Like he wanted to be.”

There’s a sharpness to her tone, a jealousy. He knows she doesn’t mean it. It’s her primal Alpha factors responding to an Omega in heat, right in front of her, that she can’t have. That wants someone else. Her basic instincts are telling her to fight James for him and stake her claim. To reward herself by getting Steve's scent into her skin.

He knows this because he feels the same with her around. Even though she’s a friend, just trying to help.

“I’ll call you. If I need anything,” he tells them. She nods; Natasha and Sam leave. “Fuck.”

“Is Steve okay,” Darcy asks, concerned.

James had almost forgotten she was here. “He’s fine. He will be. And when he is, I’m going to kick his ass for this.”

“Is he really an Omega?”

“Yes,” James answers.

“Do you need me to do anything?”

“No. Thank you. You should head home though. Sorry. We’ll hang out later.”

“When your boyfriend’s not a depraved sex nymph,” she jokes.

Steve’s moved on to dry-humping his leg and sucking on his neck.

“Go before I make you watch.”

“Don’t temp me with a good time.” She grabs her purse and coat from the coat closet by the front door. “I know you haven’t done this in a while, so make sure he eats, drinks some water, and fucking showers. Because he might smell like heaven to you and every other Alpha out there, but to another Omega, he reeks. And don’t panic, be sweet to him, but firm. I know he’s a supersoldier and all, but don’t lose control; he still needs to be taken care of.”

“I know the drill. Remember it very well.”

She believes him. He’s got this. She pecks his cheek. “I want that salad next time I see you. Call if you need anything.” She blows him a kiss and leaves.

James takes a deep breath— which was a bad idea; Steve smells _really_ good— and pulls the blonde from his neck. “Hey. Steve. Sweetheart, look at me. Please. Look at me for a second.” James lifts his head. Steve’s whole body and face are sweaty, like he ran a marathon. His body is hot and skin red and itchy. His pupils blown wide and dark. He’s shaking, too. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Steve hangs off him, stumbling, as James helps him through the apartment to the master bedroom.

He deposits Steve on the bed and tries to make for the [bathroom](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397795678), but Steve grabs hold of his T-shirt.

“No,” he protests. 

“I’ll be right back. I have to get something.”

“No.” Steve tries to pull him onto the bed with him.

“Steve.” James grips his neck and Steve gasps, eyes rolling back into his head. “Shhhh… It’s okay. Hey, look. Look at me. I’m going to the bathroom for a second. Stay right here, okay? Lay down.” He guides Steve onto his back. He tries to walk away again but Steve catches his hand. James presses his thumb onto the inside of Steve’s wrist. The blond-haired man relaxes long enough for James to break away and run to the bathroom.

He grabs a clean washcloth from the cabinet and runs it under cold water. He can here Steve whimpering on the bed. He’s thrashing around like he wants to tear his own skin off.

James wrings the cloth of excess water and turns the faucet off, hurrying back into the bedroom.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.” He folds the washcloth and lays it on Steve’s forehead. It seems to calm him a bit; his shallow breathes and whines becoming softer.

James takes off Steve’s shoes and socks. He puts them under the bed and takes out the [overnight canvas bag](https://www.amazon.com/Canvas-Overnight-Travel-Duffel-Weekender/dp/B07H4VYV6Y) under there. He opens it and grabs a First-Aid [ice pack](https://www.amazon.com/IceWraps-Instant-Cold-Breakable-Packs/dp/B075ZL1MWT). He tosses it on the bed beside Steve. James removes the washcloth from Steve’s forehead and runs it over his face, neck, and arms. “You’re lucky I’m crazy about you, Mr. Rogers.” James cards his hand through Steve’s hair, getting the wet strands off his face. “Can you sit up for me, baby?” James helps him sit up.

Steve takes the opportunity to steal a kiss from him. It’s desperate and sloppy, but James loves it. He loves seeing how bad Steve wants him.

Steve shoves his hand down James’ pants, wrapping it around his cock.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.”

“Wanna taste you.”

“I want that, too. But let’s get undressed first, alright?” Steve practically rips off his shirt and can’t get out of his jeans fast enough. James helps him with his underwear. “Oh, my fucking god…”

Steve’s cock is leaking profusely. He’s fully erect, tip red and angry and wet with pre-cum, thickly dribbling from the slit. The smell of him, that nutmeg and oranges smell, fills the room and goes straight to James’ own dick. He just knew Steve would be this wet during a heat. And it’s taking everything in him not to throw sense out the window in favor of destroying his boyfriend in complete rapture.

Steve doesn’t help. He pulls James atop him, kissing him wildly.

James keeps his lips on Steve (it’s hard not to) as he blindly grabs for the ice pack he tossed on the bed. He finds it and cracks it. He grips Steve, making him keen, then slides the compress at the back of his neck. Steve shudders at the cold juxtaposition to his torrid skin.

James lies beside him, propped up on his elbow. He kisses him; slow and sweet, then gently runs his finger along Steve’s cock. Steve cries out, desperate for his touch. He plays with the head, squeezing it, forcing out more pre-cum, wetting his fingers and watching it slide down Steve’s hard length. He rubs the pad of his thumb along the slit, making Steve squirm.

“James… Please…”

He licks into Steve’s mouth, who captures his tongue and sucks on it. James takes his damp hand and moves it further down, massaging Steve’s heavy balls, as they continue to lick and suck at each other’s mouths.

Steve’s so soaked there’s no need for lube. It seeps down his shaft into the curly hairs at the base and to his balls.

James breaks their kiss to watch Steve’s face as he finally closes his fist around the other man’s cock. He squeezes firmly, then tugs upward with a leisurely glide.

Steve’s hips rise, meeting every stroke James gives him.

The brunet doesn’t take his eyes off him, smiling down at him wickedly. He knows he’s driving Steve crazy. Hard not to with the state he’s in, but the glacial pace in which James is jerking him off is both gratifying and maddening.

He twists his wrist, squeezing hard this time, as he jerks him off. Steve comes; long, loud, and messy. Much to James’ enjoyment. There’s cum all over his hand, Steve’s stomach, chest, and a drop that’s landed on his bottom lip. The Avenger sticks his tongue out to taste it, licking it off.

“You okay, baby?”

“I need you.”

James takes his cum-covered hand and slips it between Steve’s cheeks, teasing his hole. Steve moans, back bowing off the comforter. James presses a finger in. Steve shakes. His body has gotten accustomed to James’ size in the last four months of them going at it like bunnies. His entrance easily accommodates for a second finger that James glides in and out of him.

Steve’s nipples are hard. His perfect, pink nipples on his ample pecs are pebbled and hot. James leans down, fingers still working in and out of Steve’s opening, and takes the right one into his mouth.

“Oh, god! James!”

He curls his fingers, finding Steve’s prostate, and rubs it tenderly. Steve comes a second time. This time with just a sharp gasp and a whole body tremor.

James climbs off the bed. Steve watches him undress with half-liddled eyes, panting, and licking his lips.

The other man crawls back onto the bed between Steve’s spread legs. He spits onto his fingers and slides three of them into the Omega. The supersoldier is covered in cum, drying on his sticky skin, flushed and moaning, sopping wet at the tip of his hard cock. He’s half-dazed and half-lucid, floating back and forth with every touch, every orgasm, filling the air with his overpowering scent.

The debauched picture he makes… It’s fucking with James’ control.

Steve whimpers when he presses on his prostate. He pinches his right nipple making Steve shout and gush pre-cum down his cock.

“Shit, baby…” James removes his fingers and Steve whines at the loss. “One second, sweetheart.” He waves his hand under the lube warmer then slicks his fat dick. Steve’s nerved with impatience. James leans down to kiss him. “Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you need. Promise.” He lines his cock with Steve’s pucker and pushes in, bottoming-out in one measured thrust. 

Steve turns his head, aching for a kiss. James gives him one, fierce and fervid.

Kissing him, smelling him, feeling him tighten around his cock makes James feel drunk with arousal. He breaks their kiss and grabs both of Steve’s wrists, pinning them above his head. Steve moans loudly at the strong hold of James’ hands around his sensitive E-Zone. James hammers into him, fast and rude.

“Christ, you look good…Sound good… Smell so fucking good…”

James brings Steve’s wrists together and holds them in one hand. The other pushes fingers into the blonde’s mouth. Steve whimpers and moans around the digits in his mouth, sucking them as James keeps battering into him.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you after Bucharest. After I figured out you were an Omega… Took everything in me not to abandon my mission just to come home and fuck you blind.”

James pulls his fingers from Steve’s mouth and licks a long stripe up his palm. He wraps his hand around Steve’s leaking dick, jerking him off quick and dirty.

The back of Steve’s head digs into the bedsheets. They’ve knocked all the pillows and comforter to the floor. James’ intense pace has pushed the mattress halfway off the box spring.

James is on top of Steve’s spot, fucking into him raw, making him scream with pleasure. He keeps rhythm with stroking Steve’s cock.

Steve’s hips lift, back bowing off the slumped bed, head back and neck exposed as he comes with a shout loud enough to rattle the windows. The sight of Steve having lost utter control, wanton and euphoric in his pleasure, knowing he did that, is enough for James to follow suit; he comes, body taut, sighing his lover’s name, as he fills him with his release.

Sex with Steve never disappoints, but Steve subservient and needy, in heat, is a glorious act James is more than happy to engage in. He crashes atop him, out-of-breath and sated beyond belief.

Steve, on the other hand, is out; eyes closed, face slack, limbs lax. He blacked out.

“Shit.” James cards a hand through his hair, coaxing him awake. “Come on, doll. Open your eyes for me. Please.”

Steve’s eyes flutter open. “James…”

“It’s okay. Just wanted to make sure you’re with me. What color are you, sweetheart?”

“Green,” Steve mumbles.

“Good. You can close your eyes, baby.”

He’s exhausted and doesn’t need to be told twice.

James finds enough strength to move, pulling slowly out of Steve. Steve’s eyes shoot open. He whimpers, not wanting James to go. James shushes him and searches around for the washcloth. He finds the ice pack, still cold, and places it on Steve’s forehead. Steve sighs and lets his eyes slip close again.

James finds the washcloth and cleans the sticky mess on his hand, Steve’s cock, his belly, and chest. He lifts Steve’s leg to get at his entrance. He wipes him clean there, too. He’s a semen-covered mess…

He chucks the wash rag to the floor and fixes the bed upright. Steve hasn’t moved an inch. Poor guy is overcome with fatigue. Which James finds funny given he did most of the “work,” but he knows how much a heat can take out of an Omega. It riddles them with an uncomfortable fever, the shakes, body aches, and an inflamed, insatiable sexual desire that can’t be quelled for 72 hours. A rut only lasts a day, and at the most, James has been a little achy, muscles tense, and unbelievably turned on, but it’s never as bad as an Omega heat.

James gets back into bed, lying next to Steve, who’s out like a light now. He removes the ice pack from his forehead. Steve turns into his touch as James rubs at the back of his neck.

“I really am crazy about you, punk… Still kicking your ass about this though.”

∞∞∞

James eyes flutter open at the feeling of wet heat on his sensitive skin… There’s a hard press on his stomach…

He looks down his body: Steve. Sucking him off enthusiastically, holding his rising hips down with a hand on his abdomen.

“Fuck… Steve… wait, baby, I…”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence due to Steve having pressed on his perineum with his thumb and swirling his tongue around his moist head.

“Fuuuuuuuck…” James pulls at Steve’s hair, encouraging him. “Your goddamn mouth, Rogers…”

Steve hums, creating a soft vibration that makes James moan. He pulls off James’ cock and gets to his knees on the floor. He yanks James, wanting him off the bed, too. James climbs off the bed, Steve in front of him on his knees. He guides his cock into the other man’s mouth, knowing what he wants.

Steve sucks intently, eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s own, watching him.

Waking up to Steve blowing him isn’t surprising. He’s woken James up twice in the middle of night: once, to urge the spy to jerk him off, and the second time, to beg James to fuck him hard and fast against the window for god and all of DUMBO to see.

Steve grabs James’ ass, urging him forward on each downward motion of his mouth.

James picks up on his cue: he runs his hands gently through Steve’s golden hair. He grabs hold it in both hands and pulls him off his dick. “Take a breath.”

Steve’s still within the foggy haze of his heat, though slightly more lucid today than yesterday. _Slightly_... He’s listening at least, as indicated of how he takes a deep breath. In and out, like James told him to.

James taps Steve’s lips with his cock. Steve opens his mouth for James to feed it to him. He keeps his hands on the dark-haired man’s hips, letting himself be directed with sharp tugs on his hair.

James speeds up his direction. Steve keeps his throat relaxed and breath even as his lover fucks his mouth.

Steve closes his eyes, losing himself in the nice cadence of James dragging his mouth back and forth on his thick cock. Steve hums, tasting the bitterness of James’ pre-cum on his tongue, like a ripe plum.

James shoves his cock deep into Steve’s throat, holding him there. His short hairs tickle Steve’s nose as he gags.

James pulls his off, letting him gulp in breaths of air, before shoving his mouth back onto his cock. Steve chokes and gags, drooling down his chin each time James rams his penis down his throat and holds him there. His grip on Steve’s hair is painful and makes him whimper.

James cants his hips forward, swift and relentless. Tears well in Steve’s eyes at the hurtful grip on his hair and vicious face-fucking he asked for. His cock is dripping onto the floor, wet and angry, purple at the head with being stirred but neglected.

Without warning, James comes in his mouth. He tries to swallow it all but he’s coughing and gagging too much to taste it the way he likes. There’s cum running down his chin. James bends down to lick it off. They kiss, deep and messy.

“Get on the bed.”

Steve climbs on the bed. James gets onto the bed, too. He lies down and motions for Steve to come here. Steve makes to swing a leg around James, but the other man stops him. “Turn around. Face the other way.”

Steve turns body so his front faces James’ feet as he straddles him.

“Up here.”

He finally understands what James wants and scoots back to sit on his face. James runs a smooth hand up Steve’s spine that makes him relax.

James spreads his cheeks, pulling them open, exposing his pucker.

He gives it constant, lingering licks that makes Steve shudder.

Steve takes hold of his swollen erection in his hand— James smacks his ass as a warning. The quick spank emits a squeal from the towering blond that James has never heard before. He files it away as something to be explored at another time. Steve lets go of his cock with a sad, little whine.

James wets his middle finger with spit. He slips the finger inside Steve, working it in and out. 

James playfully bites his left cheek, then licks at his hole with the tip of his tongue.

Steve’s all heavy pants and quivers.

He removes his finger to lick up and down Steve’s entire crack with the flat part of his tongue. He watches with fascination as Steve’s pucker winks at him, moist with sweat and his saliva.

James pushes both of his thumbs inside Steve and opens him wider. He spits in his gaping hole and rams his tongue inside. Steve cries out. He falls forward, bracing himself with hands on James’ knees.

James fucks him deep with his tongue, lavishing in the salty taste of his perspiration, and tang of Steve’s opening. He dives as far as he can into Steve’s canal, eating him out, sloppy and wet, giving up any and all finesse. He wants Steve to lose it as he feeds from him greedily.

Steve moans loudly like he’s dying, body hot and trembling as he borders on coming. James’ middle finger joins his tongue again. He finds Steve’s prostate and curls his finger, rubbing at it as he continues eating him out. Steve grinds down on his face. James feels him flutter then clinch around his tongue and finger.

James’ other hand leaves Steve’s cock and reaches up for his chest. He pinches Steve’s left nipple and listens to him gasps, breathless and devastated as he comes all over James’ stomach.

James doesn’t stop, but it’s too much for Steve. He twists and squirms, but James locks his arms around the tree trunks Steve calls thighs and continues sucking and licking into him. Steve comes again, shaking violently and collapsing to the bed, forcing James to let up.

He’s breathing hard, skin flushed red and blotchy. His whole body limp; dick flaccid and seeping cum onto the bedding.

“You okay, punk,” James asks.

Steve nods weakly.

James’ face is wet and torso sticky. The taste of Steve is potent on his tongue. He smiles, “Good.”

∞∞∞

“No.”

“Baby, you got to. Please.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s just [oatmeal](https://pinchofyum.com/caramelized-banana-oatmeal). There’s fruit in it.”

Steve’s like a fussy toddler and James is nearing his wits ends with trying to get him to eat something.

“The only thing I want to eat is you.”

“Clever. But I still need you to put some food in your stomach. Come on.”

Steve groans.

His fever’s gone down and he’s forming whole sentences now, but he’s still sex-obsessed to the point of refusing food and water. He also hasn’t showered since Natasha found him in the locker room.

“Steve, you haven’t eaten anything in days. The stupid protein bars you had on the quinjet on your way back to the city don’t count. Now, come on and eat something for me.”

Steve sits up like he’s going to take the oatmeal from James, but climbs into his lap instead, kissing his neck. “I want you again.”

James pulls away and Steve whines.

“You want me?”

Steve nods. “So bad. All the time.”

James kiss him, slow and teasing. “I want you, too.” Steve moans and grinds down on James’ cock. “I want to bend you over that chair and fuck you deep and hard. I want you to come, screaming my name… You want that, too?” Steve nods. “Okay. But you have to do me a favor: you have to eat this oatmeal first and drink that glass of orange juice.” Steve pouts. “None of that or I won’t let you have me.”

He thinks about it a moment, then licks his lips with a smirk, a thought having occurred. “Feed it to me.”

An electric crackle shoots up James’ spine. He has no idea why that’s such a sexy request, making his cock jump at the thought.

James scrapes a bit of oatmeal and a banana slice onto the spoon in the bowl. He brings it to Steve’s lips. He opens obediently and takes a bite.

“Jesus…” He gets why he finds this so hot: Steve’s desperate need to be taken care of by him right now, his utter compliance, jabs straight at James' fundamental Alpha impulses, and plays with Steve’s Omega tendencies. In other words, Steve likes being "babied," and James loves spoiling him.

They’re nearly done the entire bowl when Steve reaches down to stroke James’ cock. “You’re hard.”

“Because you’re turning me on.”

“You like feeding me.”

“I like taking care of you. One more bite please.” Steve eats the last bit of oatmeal. James grabs the glass of juice off the nightstand. “Drink.”

Steve takes the glass and drinks it in four gulps. He sets the glass down, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and attacks James’ lips with his own.

∞∞∞

James rubs a soothing hand along Steve’s ribs. “Shhhh…Breathe, baby.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then another one, and another. Until his breath is steady and skin goes from hot to warm. He’s spread out, knees bend, privates exposed, right in front of James.

James yanks him closer.

He loves Steve likes this: acquiescent and displayed. It ignites his baser Alpha instincts, setting off his desires like fireworks. Steve is completely 100% percent his; given over to be used and pleasured. Sex with The Avenger is already worthy of Shakespearean prose, but sex with Steve in heat has been gospel; ancient text to be written on aged paper and hidden in dusty tombs, proclaiming a new religion has been found and it is The Way.

James slowly presses the slick [toy](https://www.lovehoney.com/product.cfm?p=42554&SSAID=1831182&sscid=91k3_562qo) in his hand into Steve’s opening. The smooth silicone makes for an easy glide of all 4 inches of it, and though soft, its firmness feels planted inside the tow-headed man. The head does its job, pressing right atop Steve’s prostate, while the ribbed external stimulator rest against his perineum.

James’ hand continues calming Steve, coasting up and down his muscular torso, until it reaches his neck. He grips him and Steve sighs, dissolving into the mattress. James immediately takes advantage of Steve’s sated state and presses the rotating button on the base of the massager; it turns counterclockwise inside him, right on his spot. Steve jolts, a gasp caught in his throat, leaving his mouth open. His cock oozes cum, sliding down the shaft into the nest of golden hairs around it.

Steve’s white-knuckling the bedspread. James ups the speed of the rotating head and presses the vibration button. Steve’s coming. Still. Leaking in continuing dribbles that gather in his public hair.

He hasn’t moved to touch his dick once. Opting instead to twist the comforter into his tight fists.

James turns the vibration up a setting and presses the stimulator against his taint. Steve hasn’t stopped coming; it’s thicker, but pellucid, squirting in huge droplets that coat his long, weighty cock. Steve’s all severe breaths and whimpers as he bites his lip, holding back the wails lodged in his throat.

The massager has 6 vibrating settings. James kicks it up to No. 3. Steve wails, shaking horribly as cum keeps spilling out of him.

“What color? Come on, baby, what color are you? Steve?”

“G-Green,” he sobs.

James catches the aroma of nutmeg and oranges filling the air again. He loves Steve’s scent. Especially while on his heat. He can’t believe he was fine with Steve being on suppressants and scent blockers with this smell, covered up by the fragrance of nothingness. He may not care for how in the dark Steve kept him about ending his meds, but he’s glad for the change.

“You smell amazing. And look so pretty, sweetheart, I swear.”

James takes Steve’s hand and kisses the inside of his wrist. Steve’s fingers gently scrape through the short hairs at the nape of James’ neck. James’ lips move to his palm, then fingertips, kissing them lightly and appreciatively. Because he’s nothing if not grateful for how Steve wanted to share his body with him.

James turns the settings up one more click and wraps a hand around Steve’s cock.

That wail he tried to hold back, tried to stifle with biting his lip raw— it’s out now, rattling off the dark walls and with absolutely no preservation as Steve comes for a fifth time. It shoots hard and fast out of him. And everywhere: his stomach, chest, neck, and chin.

James smiles like the devil and takes the toy out of him. “You’re a mess, baby.” James drags his finger through the “mess” along Steve’s body, then sucks it into his mouth, savoring the spiced and biting taste of his boyfriend. “We need to clean you up.”

Steve groans, not wanting to move or be moved.

James chuckles. “Later then. Sleep.”

Steve is fast asleep the moment his eyes close.

James climbs out of bed. He grabs the overnight bag from under the bed and takes out another ice compress. He cracks it and rest it on Steve’s forehead. He takes a pack of wipes out of the bag and uses them to wipe the cooling cum off Steve’s body.

There’s a Gatorade on the nightstand he put there about an hour ago. He doesn’t want to stir Steve awake to drink it; he knows his boy is exhausted beyond belief right now. Instead, he caps a bottle of aspirin and sets two pills down beside it for Steve to take when he wakes up.

The sun is coming up. The [blue hour](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_hour) rising over the city and through James’ bedroom window. It’s beautiful. The Brooklyn Bridge adds to the aesthetic.

But he closes the [blackout curtains](https://www.wayfair.com/decor-pillows/sb0/blackout-curtains-c1870228.html) on the scenic view anyway. Steve needs to rest. They both do. And as lovely as the Manhattan skyline is at this time of day, he doesn’t want the morning sun casting its rays into their faces as they lie in bed, catching up on missing sleep, but content in how they lost it.

∞∞∞

James drew him a hot [milk bath](https://barefootblond-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Milk-Bath-jenny-bess-9-694x1024.jpg) fragranced with [bath oil](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/library-of-flowers-field-flowers-bath-oil-prod160900387?icid=&searchType=MAIN&rte=/search.jsp?from=brSearch&request_type=search&search_type=keyword&q=bath+oil&eItemId=prod160900387&cmCat=search&tc=482%C2%A4tItemCount=17&q=bath+oil&searchURL=/search.jsp?from=brSearch&start=0&rows=30&q=bath+oil&l=bath+oil&request_type=search&search_type=keyword&ecid=NMAF__Skimlinks+\(Variable+Pricing\)&CS_003=5630585&utm_medium=affiliate&utm_source=NMAF__Skimlinks+\(Variable+Pricing\)) notes of apricot and honey blossom, then added wildflowers simply for aesthetic purposes.

Steve’s never been so pampered. And he’s needed it. His skin was clammy and sticky from dried cum and sweat coating to it for the last 3 days. He stinks, too, from not having bathed, refusing to move from the bed or take a break from James fucking him mercilessly. But with his heat over, the carnal fever and uninhibited desire that comes with it done, Steve’s within his right mind now, and knows he’s in desperate need of sustenance and cleanliness.

He sits straddled on James’ lap, letting the other man run a soft [sea sponge](https://milkandhoney.com/products/natural-wool-sponge?variant=4758607200285&currency=USD&gclid=CjwKCAjwk93rBRBLEiwAcMapUQAVdx92eEjX4SEMVUYIGoA5ceUm8Jp4XZVf6S8P-6a2NFVfRatJ3hoCJWIQAvD_BwE) over his body.

“Are you mad,” Steve asks.

“A little, yes.” Steve’s face sours. And that kicked puppy look is going to ruin James for life. But he knows the unwavering truth needs to happen right now. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you went off your meds?”

“No. I just… I didn’t think I needed to tell you. That it mattered.”

“Steve, it’s your body. You do what you want with it, but a heat is something that’s shared between persons. It’s intimacy on another level. It’s our designations connecting.”

“I know that, James…”

“I don’t think you do. We should have talked about it beforehand. I don’t like being put in a position that makes it hard for me to understand your consent.” He knows Steve gets it now due to the hurt look in his eyes. “I shared your heat with you because I care about you. A lot. And because Natasha said you demanded to come here, to me.”

“I did. That was the point of me getting off my meds: I wanted to be with you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think telling you was important. I assumed you knew if I did go through a heat, I’d want to be with you.”

“I don’t ever want to just assume anything when it comes to sex with someone. Especially you. You need to talk to me, Steve.”

“I…” James can see him thinking, trying to figure out how to say what he needs to. He squeezes his hip, a little signal to let him know it’s okay to be honest with him. To be vulnerable. “I’ve never been with someone. In a relationship. I don’t know what the rules are. I don’t… I sometimes don’t know what’s important and what’s not, how to say things, how to feel, if I’m wrong or right. I don’t know what to do if you’re hurt by something I did or didn’t do.”

“I got news for you, pal: everybody is just as confused and clueless as you. We’re all just bumping into one another, looking, hoping for a connection with someone else. It’s messy more than it is romantic; that shit’s for the movies. It only starts to get rewarding when you do what we’re doing now— being honest. Communicating. That’s all I’m asking for; just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. _Before_ you do something. And I swear I’ll do the same.”

Let it never be said that Steve Rogers doesn’t find pure, unapologetic honesty as the sexiest trait another human could possess.

“Peggy… We only flirted and kissed, but the things that were assumed or left unsaid still felt complete somehow, even though we were never in an official relationship. This is my first one. And I’m scared a lot of the time.”

James lifts Steve up a bit, then gently sits him down on his cock, pushing in until he bottoms-out. Steve moans as his hands grip the edge of the bathtub.

James rocks into him, sloshing the water lightly. “I know. But there’s no need to be as long as you talk to me, Stevie.”

Of all the pet names James has given him, “Stevie” is the one the Avenger finds most charming. He’s never had someone lovingly call him cute names of endearment, let alone a nickname. At the most anyone’s ever referred to him is as “Cap.” Which really isn’t a nickname but a quicker version of his alter ego moniker. “Stevie” makes him feel…special. Like he belongs to someone.

Steve kisses him, licking into his mouth. “I will. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during May 2022.
> 
> Some of you have asked why Steve doesn't call James 'Bucky' or why he doesn't go by that name. All will be revealed in chapter 9 :)
> 
> One last thing-- I'm going to rework chapter 6. I feel like it might be a little abrupt between segments near the end, so I'm adding a scene or two that should be there to establish character and transition better. Keep a lookout for that.
> 
> (Damn. This fic is going to be long...LOL. I promise to keep it under 90k though. Scouts honor.)
> 
> Hope you liked it. And as always, I love comments. Feedback feeds my soul.


	8. White Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last person Steve wanted to know he was an Omega, just found out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: Steve is put in an uncomfortable sexual situation within this chapter. He isn't hurt but the prospect of him being hurt is written within.

* * *

Steve _loves_ kissing James. He’s used to an era when public displays of affection were most certainly limited. It’s taken him a while to embrace showing James how much he likes kissing him, in front of other people, but the lustful exhibitionist in him can’t help but want to crawl into his lap and make out like a couple of teenagers.

“You two are worse than me and [Victor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vision_\(Marvel_Comics\)),” Wanda teases in her thick accent.

The moment she left, in search of a [porta potty](https://cdn.websites.hibu.com/170d3e54eb1949da981761646b68cdba/dms3rep/multi/mobile/Fair-+angled.jpeg), Steve pounced on his boyfriend.

“Seems like we’re always getting busted, sweetheart,” James grins.

Steve blushes. “Looks like it.” He slides off James’ lap and onto the blanket beside him.

He didn’t think he’d like going to an [outdoor concert](https://allaccess.wolftrap.org/2019/05/17/tips-first-timers/), sitting on the grass, far away from the stage, surrounded by strangers, under the hot, June sun. But he’s been having a good time so far.

Wanda takes a seat on her blanket, on the other side of James, and lies back on the [floor pillow](https://shantigypsy.com/products/grosses-bodenkissen-indien-sitzkissen-lebensbaum-bodenkissen-kunterbunt-orientalisches-grosses-deko-kissen-ottoman-hippie-shanti-gypsy) she brought with them. She slides her [sunglasses](http://wheretoget.it/look/1325218) onto her face. “I like watching you kiss. It’s sexy.”

She grabs a water bottle from the [cooler](yeti.com/en_US/hard-coolers/roadie-20-cooler/10020020000.html?country=US&currency=USD&CAWELAID=120329620000000141&CAGPSPN=pla&CAAGID=47134514833&CATCI=pla-478005499335&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_content=__iv_p_1_g_47134514833_c_216007053090_w_pla-478005499335_n_g_d_c_v__l__t__r_1o7_x_pla_y_7597392_f_online_o_10020020000_z_US_i_en_j_478005499335_s__e__h_9033449_ii__vi__&&utm_id=google_664187722_47134514833_216007053090_pla-478005499335_c&gclid=CjwKCAjwq4fsBRBnEiwANTahcD9-gXD2zGdxpCYS3aduT3Rpq7k5HBTMLulCXojDlVXA7RFPjM_osRoCNE8QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) beside them and takes a swig, then passes it to James who does the same. Steve knows that’s not water in that bottle. The do-gooder in him wants to say something about them illegally drinking alcohol in public, but he decides it’s best to let it go. Besides, he’s sure everyone else here is doing the same thing.

“Where is Victor, by the way,” James asks.

“Ugh. He went fishing with Pietro in New Mexico.”

“I had no idea Pietro even liked fishing.”

“He didn’t until he went camping with Victor last year. Now, they go fishing all the time. So boring,” like a dismissive, Russian housewife. Steve laughs. “But when he comes back, we make love. All night long. Like you two.” She waggles her finger in James’ face. “I know. I can tell. You love him long and hard.”

“Alright. That’s enough out of you. And enough vodka going into you.” James takes the bottle from her and sits it between he and Steve.

She giggles.

“Is there any real water in that cooler, by chance,” Steve asks. James grabs a large [thermoflask](https://www.yeti.com/en_US/drinkware/rambler-36-oz-bottle/21071300064.html?country=US&currency=USD&CAWELAID=120329620000001581&CAGPSPN=pla&CAAGID=67625235059&CATCI=pla-527128578851&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_content=__iv_p_1_g_67625235059_c_334772661012_w_pla-527128578851_n_g_d_c_v__l__t__r_1o2_x_pla_y_7597392_f_online_o_21071300064_z_US_i_en_j_527128578851_s__e__h_9033449_ii__vi__&&utm_id=google_1716211367_67625235059_334772661012_pla-527128578851_c&gclid=CjwKCAjwq4fsBRBnEiwANTahcNjM-05_QRAv3PuieEslntQD15F-9CW-aJ3rJLoGlRp9EWjtleUmxhoC2p8QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds) and hands it to him. Steve twist the cap off and sips the ice cold water inside. He leans back, finally taking in the music, really listening. “Who is this again?”

“[Goldroom](https://open.spotify.com/artist/4eZebkMFU3xelF8mbZYXyl?si=cBDBhwi4RF2IBnJL4WjrUA),” both James and Wanda answer.

Steve finds himself swaying to the dreamy, electronic dance beats. “I like them.”

“Knew you would,” James winks at him.

Steve kisses him. “I’m glad you came. I’m pretty sure I would have been bored out my mind, acting as the third wheel to Tony and Pepper.”

Pepper begged him to please tear his lips away from James long enough to take a short, two-day trip to D.C. and shake hands with a few congressmen who allow them to fly around the world, saving it, without the all the legislative red tape that hems up other countries. He hadn’t planned on asking James to go with him, but once he told the other man about it, James jumped on the chance to come. He immediately called Wanda, telling her they were coming for a visit.

“As if I’d leave you to fend for yourself in a room full of wealthy oligarchs all alone.”

Wanda groans. “Better you two than me. I hate politicians. I’m a scientist. No room for bullshit.”

Steve and James laugh.

* * *

James looks so damn good in a [tux](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DTCYc89UMAAFkKv.jpg). It’s driving Steve crazy. He’s talking to the deputy director of the CIA, along with two senators from the House Armed Services Committee. Occasionally, their eyes meet across the room and James smiles at him with a wink over the champagne glass at his lips.

Ever since his heat, James has taken up a considerably amount of space in his thoughts. He was sparring with Natasha the last week and easily got his shield snatched right out his grip by her; too distracted with wandering thoughts of the bath sex they had, and all the water on the floor from their naked, wet jostling…

“Want a handkerchief for your drool, Rogers?”

“Shut up, Tony. He’s my boyfriend; I can look.”

“There’s looking and there’s leering,” Tony grins as he sips his seltzer water with lime.

“Fine then. I’m leering at my boyfriend because he looks incredible in a tuxedo.”

Tony scoffs. “Well…so do I.”

“Not like that.”

“Oh, really? Should I be walking around with a paper bag over my head?”

“How do people think I’m dramatic when you’re a person that exists,” Steve wisecracks.

“Ohhhhh… Is the boyfriend teaching us how to be quippy?”

Tony’s being particularly annoying at the moment. The old Steve would simply walk away from him after delivering a cutting jab to the billionaire’s ego, but that was before group therapy and quality one-on-one time with each of his teammates. He knows better now. Therefore, instead of storming off in a huff, letting Tony’s mood get the better of him, he decides to do what a leader should do:

“Tony. Do we talk about something? You seem angry at me.”

Tony’s learned a thing or two in group therapy, too, and decides to be an adult— “Is there something wrong with us? ‘Us’ as in your family. The Avengers. Is there something wrong with us?”

“What? No. Of course not, Tony. Why’d you ask that?”

“Because you and 007 have been going steady, sharing [egg cream sodas](https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/classic-chocolate-egg-cream-51164610) after class and swing dancing at [The Savoy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savoy_Ballroom), for 4 months, and he has yet to spend any real time with your family. Not once has he come to game night or movie night or had dinner with anyone other than Betty. We’re on this trip together and staying in separate hotels, for god’s sake. So, he either doesn’t care to know any of us or—”

“I haven’t invited him.”

“Because we embarrass you.”

“No. Don’t put words into my mouth or assume things!”

Tony holds up his hands in surrender. He shouldn’t have offended Steve like that. “Sorry. Seriously. I’m sorry.”

They both take a beat to relax their emotions…

“I’m new to relationships. I don’t… I don’t know how to share him. And I’m not so sure I want to just yet. Even with you guys. James is something I have all to myself and I like that. All of you are important to me. I want you to know him like I do, but right now he’s all mine and that feels really good. Does-does that make sense?”

Tony chuckles. He gives Steve a friendly pat on the back. “Yeah, it does, Cap.”

“Thank you.”

“Still think you should invite him to movie night.”

“I will. I promise. But you know, he’s here now. You could try talking to him, get to know him better while I can’t do much about it.”

Tony smirks. “I could. But then that would mean having to join his conversation with that right-wing lunatic, [Sen. Blackburn](https://www.google.com/search?q=senator+blackburn&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&oq=senator+blackburn&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.6742j1j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8). And after the first time I ever spoke to that woman, I vowed never to do it again. God have mercy on your boy, Cap.”

Only Steve and Tony come to these White House events anymore. Natasha got sick of being hit on by creepy, old men, Bruce can’t handle being in the same room with government and military officials for longer than 10 seconds before his hands start to turn a emerald shade of green, Clint’s been banned from the White House since that whole bathroom incident with the First Lady, and Thor always seems to be off-world right at the exact moment Pepper looks like she’s about to ask him for a favor. So, Steve and Tony always find themselves the ones that spend a perfectly good Saturday shaking hands with politicians they can’t stand, taking selfies with generals and DoD bureaucrats, signing autographs for foreign dignitaries, and fending off wealthy lobbyists who want to turn The Avengers into a commercial brand instead of world-saving superheroes.

Luckily, this time Steve had a date. A charismatic one that skillfully charms the bored wives, laughs at all the politicians’ bad jokes, and knows how to slip away from a conversation beautifully when it looks like it’s going to veer toward something he doesn’t want to discuss.

“Looks like he’s holding his own. But I could go rescue him.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it. I, on the other hand, am going to find my wife before someone pitches her some new charity she’ll want to donate all my money to.”

Steve laughs. “Go. Maybe it’s not too late for you to call home and say ‘goodnight’ to the kids.”

“You could sneak out, too, you know.”

“Planning on it.”

Tony hugs him. “Atta boy. Taught you well.”

Steve watches him weave through the tux and evening gown wearing crowd, looking for Pepper.

A hand slides along his hip and Steve smiles. He turns his head to the slate-colored eyes that he loves. “Hi.”

“Hey, gorgeous. You had enough? Want to go back to the hotel?”

Steve nods.

“Me, too. So, how do we sneak out of here without anybody taking notice?”

“You’re the spy. Be stealth.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It was.”

James takes his hand into his, locking their fingers. “Then I accept.”

∞∞∞

Steve didn’t think he’d find this as sexy as he does, but it’s driving him crazy. James looks so good atop him, squeezing his pecs together and rubbing his slick cock between them. The pads of the dark-haired man’s thumbs press into Steve’s nipples making him moan and squirm. James rocks between his lubed chest faster.

Steve digs his nails into James’ forearms. “Come on me… Come on me. All over me.”

“Shit,” James groans.

“Mark me.”

James moans; head tilted to the ceiling, eyes closed, mouth open. His skin is warm and damp with sweat. Steve loves how he looks when he comes. Which he does, all over Steve’s neck.

James collapses beside Steve, out of breath and smiling. “I thought you were joking when you said you wanted a [pearl necklace](https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sexopedia/a8272699/pearl-necklace-sex-act/). Fuck, that was hot.”

Steve straddles James. He takes his hand and swipes it through the mess on his neck. He takes his cum-coated fingers and tentatively touches his entrance. He’s never done this to himself before. He doesn’t even own a toy. But the raptured look on his boyfriend’s face gives him enough lustful courage to slide two fingers into himself.

His eyes slip close and he pretends its James’ fingers inside him. He loves when James does it. When he opens him up with his long fingers, thumb pressed hard against his perineum as he finds Steve’s spot. How he works him slow at first, letting Steve get used to the glide of his digits sliding in and out of him as his other hand squeezes Steve’s inner thigh, keeping his legs open.

Then when he’s tortured Steve long enough, he’ll add a third finger, his index finger, pushing into him hard and faster. He’ll pull his fingers apart, scissoring them, stretching him out for his cock. And Steve loves James’ cock; all 8 inches of it, as thick as a lead pipe. He’s uncircumcised, like most Alphas. So, when he’s hard and ready, Steve likes to pull the foreskin back and run his thumb over the slit, pearled with pre-cum. He’s never as wet as Steve, but he’s wet enough to be slick. He fits perfectly into Steve’s hand, like he was made to.

But when he’s not prepping Steve, when he just wants to finger him and watch him come on his hand, he finds Steve’s prostate without hesitation. He’ll press on it with his fingers until Steve’s shaking violently. Until that buzz that starts in his toes reaches his spine and travels through his fingertips, making the hair on his arms stand up. Until he can feel every pleasurable surge through his body. Until he can feel all the blood and every muscle in his cock jolt to attention. And then, that’s when he—

“James!” Steve falls atop James, shuddering and out of breath. He made a mess on his stomach that he’s currently lying in, but he’s too spent to care.

“That…was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.”

“…I thought about you. How you touch me. And I came.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Couldn’t help but to watch.”

Steve chuckles.

James wraps his arms around him, holding him. He runs a hand through his hair and kisses the top of his head. “Stevie?”

“Hmm?”

“…I love you.”

Steve bolts upright, surprised eyes on the man beneath him. His mouth opens and closes, currently at a loss for words.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know how I feel right now. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to think…”

He wants to say it. He wants to shout it from the top of the Empire State Building, but there’s something lodged in his throat. Something heavy and ever-present. It stops him and makes him hate himself for not being able to speak. But James is smiling at him, carding his fingers through his hair, like everything’s okay. Like Steve isn’t an emotionally stunted idiot.

“I know what’s between us. So, tell me when you’re ready, punk.”

He should say something. Anything, at least.

Steve nods. “Okay. When I’m ready.”

* * *

Steve was out for a run in Prospect Park when Maria sent S.H.I.E.L.D agents to find him and bring him to HQ. He and James got back from D.C. last night, but Steve was restless and decided on a run to clear his head. So, he’s in his jogging clothes, sweaty and red, when he enters the building and is taken to the [operations room](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/af/76/7e/af767e10d707c13a2def07067533f541.jpg). Natasha, Sharon, and Clint are already there, along with Maria and at least half a dozen agents.

“What in the hell is that,” he says of the image projected on the screen in front of him.

Sharon hands him a file. "That is [M.O.D.O.K](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MODOK), the leader of [A.I.M](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Idea_Mechanics), an arms dealing terrorists group of scientists specializing in high-tech weaponry. He’s a supervillain hellbent on world domination I’ve been tracking.”

“Oh, like all the rest of them. And here I thought big head would’ve had more elaborate dreams,” Natasha says sarcastically.

“With a head that big I’m pretty sure his dreams are more like movies,” Clint jokes. He raises his hand, hoping for a hi-five from Nat and Sharon, but they merely scowl at his stupid joke. “Whatever,” Clint sours.

“He’s highly intelligent. I mean, his mind is basically a computer,” Sharon shares. “He can retrieve and download huge swaths of data and retain massive amounts of information with his incredible memory.”

“He shut down the entire power grid of Eastern Europe in the middle of the night, then corrupted law enforcement data banks with a virus,” Maria informs them.

“Oh, goody,” Natasha remarks.

“He also has the powers of telepathy and mind control,” Sharon adds.

“Can I ask a question,” Clint raises. “Whatever happened to petty criminals? Like purse-snatchers, or vandals? I miss them.”

“He’s got to have a weakness,” Steve wonders, flipping through the info in his hands.

“Probably egotism,” Natasha says. “Like every other villain. They’re all narcissists. It’s just this guy is especially ugly while being one.”

“The chair,” Sharon says, realization dawning on her. “He can’t move without the hover chair. If we can destroy the chair, immobilize him, then we can stop him—”

“And have the Strike Team take out his goons,” Steve concludes. “Find out his last known whereabouts and let’s get to work.”

Everyone in the room scrambles on Captain’s orders, ready to gear-up and take out M.O.D.O.K. Steve hurries toward his private locker room to grab his uniform, when he runs into Rumlow in the corridor.

“Hey, Cap, what’s the— Jesus Christ! What’s that smell?”

“I need you and every available hand on a quinjet, geared up and ready to go, at 0700 hours— What smell,” Steve asks, stopping in his tracks, distracted by the question.

“You don’t smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Like a sweet…” Rumlow steps closer to Steve and sniffs. Steve grimaces and takes a step back. “It’s you. You smell…”

Fuck. Steve realizes what the smell Rumlow is talking about is; his Omega scent. The blockers have finally worn off completely. His scent is made ever-present, given the sweat clinging to his body from his jog.

The Alpha’s eyes grow wide and dilated. “Holy. Shit. …You’re a goddamn Omega.”

Steve squares his shoulders, standing tall and authoritative. “What of it, Rumlow?”

“Oh, my god… It all makes sense now. Fuck me.” Rumlow giggles like he just solved an ancient mystery.

Steve gets right in his face. “Gear up, get your teams, and get on the quinjet. Now,” he snarls.

Rumlow merely smirks. “Aye, aye, Captain.” The dark-haired man heads for the elevators. He smacks the down button, all the while grinning at Steve, before his lift arrives and he disappears inside.

This isn’t exactly how Steve thought his day was going to go. Which is why he calls James the second Rumlow is out of sight.

∞∞∞

Three days. That’s all it took to destroy M.O.D.O.K’s mastermind plan. Steve’s actually shocked. The hideous, evil genius managed to get away at the last minute, no doubt going into hiding, but nonetheless, it feels over before it began. He’d almost call it uneventful, but he knows better than to jinx himself like that. Besides, he’s sure he and M.O.D.O.K will see each other again. Villains have a habit of repeating their offenses until captured.

But right now, all he wants is a shower. A nice, hot shower to soothe his aching muscles and wash the dirt, sweat, and dried blood off his exposed skin.

Steve strips out of his uniform and boots. He steps into the shower; the heated water cascading over him is exactly what he needed. He ducks his head under the shower head and closes his eyes.

He would much rather have been able to take a shower at James’ place, but he couldn’t wait that long. He called his boyfriend the minute they touched down in New York and asked him to come to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ in two hours to pick him up.

A hot shower, soft, clean clothes, and falling asleep in James’ arms sounds like heaven. He’s not even hungry, but he’s sure he will be in the morning. He wonders if he can get James to make him [Japanese pancakes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qarg7peLYr4) again…

_“Penny for your thoughts.”_

Steve turns around lightening fast at the familiar but uninvited voice— Rumlow. Naked. And smirking.

“Hey, Cap.”

“**_Get. Out. Now_**,” Steve grits through his teeth. He wants to cover up but is too furious to be embarrassed by his nakedness.

Rumlow steps into Steve’s space, backing him up against the tile wall. He brackets Steve’s head with his outstretched arms braced on the wall. “You don’t want me to go. Not really.”

“Rumlow, right now this is little stunt is just you getting fired, possibly with a sexual harassment charge to go along with it, but if you don’t leave this second, it’s you getting hurt also.”

“You don’t want to hurt me. You want me. You’re just confused.”

“I’m not confused about a damn thing.”

“Remember when I said you were a tease? Well, you are. But that’s okay. I like this little game we’ve been playing.”

“I’m not playing games with you, Brock.”

Rumlow scoffs. “You’ve been messing with me since day one, Cap. All the pats on the back, sparring, the shy smiles and blushing. Our date. I get now why you didn’t want me to kiss your neck then. You’ve been playing hard to get, like a sinful, little Omega. Hell, I bet you’re only screwing around with Barnes to make me jealous. Well, guess what, Cap? It worked. I’m here, and I heard you, loud and clear.”

“Get this through your thick skull: **I am not interested in you**. No one has been playing hard to get with you. I am with someone else,” Steve states absolutely.

“Barnes is not the Alpha for you. He’s not man enough.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. Now, get out.”

“You need someone to hold you down and put you in your proper place. You need a real Alpha. Barnes ain’t it, sugar.”

“I’m not that kind of Omega.”

“You will be when I done with you.”

He goes in to kiss Steve and the blond man raises his leg off the floor to kick Rumlow square in the chest, and through the [glass, stall door](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/d162b6_d032c35950f7428285b1b9979fc762ab~mv2_d_1497_1280_s_2.jpg)! Shattered glass is everywhere. Rumlow is knocked out cold, but his leg is bleeding.

Steve turns off the shower. He steps over Rumlow’s unconscious body and avoids the glass, getting to his towel folded atop the bench. He wraps it around his waist, then grabs his cellphone from the inside of his right boot. He dials a programmed number in his phone—

“Hello. Security...? I need someone escorted off the premises from the 25th floor… Yes, my floor. The bathroom…Yes…Thanks.”

Steve hangs up.

He stares at Rumlow’s limp body lying beside his feet. He thinks about covering him up, but quickly changes his mind, not wanting to give Rumlow anymore dignity than he deserves.

“I told you: I’m not that kind of Omega. Jackass.”

∞∞∞

James is gripping the edge of the counter so hard, Steve can hear it creak under his angry, red hands.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you. You said we need to be honest with each other and I wanted to be honest with you,” Steve tells him. “Security came and hauled him off the property. I called both Fury and Maria. He’s fired. In fact, Maria said she’ll make sure he never gets hired at any military and government agency ever again.”

James chuckles darkly, still white-knuckling the counter.

“And I’m going to talk to Pepper in the morning about filing a sexual harassment case against him. She’ll help me to keep it very discreet and out of the public.”

James takes a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth. He hasn’t said a word since Steve told him what happened, and The Avenger is starting to worry.

“I took care of it. I handled It like I told you, and Natasha, and Sam I would. But I’m sorry it got that far. I didn’t think it would. I should’ve listened to you.” James’ head is down, Steve can’t see his face. He can’t gage how he feels. “James? James…?”

“…There is a rage inside of me right now that I can’t describe. Not for you, but for that attempted rapist.” James finally looks at him. “I’m trying my hardest to not make this an Alpha thing; feeling like it’s my fault for not being there to protect you, even though I know you don’t need my protection. But I’m too pissed to be rational. I want to throw that piece of shit off the tallest building and watch his body splat onto the pavement. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, because I’m pretty sure he’s handcuffed to a hospital bed right now.”

“James—”

“The idea of someone, _anyone_, hurting you, sparks a violent wrath in me that I never want you to see. Rumlow being that someone at the moment only amplifies my it because I’ve hated him for a long time before this happened.”

Steve pries James’ hands from the counter and takes them into his. He kisses each knuckle tenderly.

“Would taking me to bed help,” he asks.

“Going to bed with you always helps.”

“Then why are we still in the kitchen?”

“Steve…”

“I don’t want to close my eyes and Brock Rumlow sneaking into the shower with me, trying to kiss me, violate me, to be the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. I want you to make love to me. Remind me I’m yours. And not his.”

Steve must’ve said the magic words and unlocked a secret door, because without another word, James grabs him by the hand and pulls him toward the bedroom…

* * *

Betty opens the door with a glass of red wine in her hand. “Get in here and be quiet.” She pulls Steve and James inside and closes the door.

Steve immediately hears Tony, Pepper, and their son, Peter, yelling at one another upstairs. “What’s going on,” he whispers.

She sneaks them into the [kitchen](https://dbd9tuf69my4k.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/10102218/lumiere-selden-1048.jpg). Everyone is there, hiding: Natasha, Sam, Maria, Clint, Laura, Bruce, and Thor. Betty pours them each a double of Tony’s expensive whiskey. “You’re going to need this.”

“Why? What’s happening,” Steve asks.

“Tony has been apparently using Jarvis to monitor his kids’ online activities and found something he didn’t like in Peter’s text messages to someone,” Natasha tells him.

“He told Pepper right when we got here and that’s when the shit hit the fan,” Sam adds.

“Tony’s been spying on his kids?”

“He calls it ‘paternal check-in’,” Bruce says. “He said he wanted to make sure trolls and scam artists weren’t harassing the boys, and that Morgan wasn’t being accosted by slimeballs.”

“Peter it seems knew how to bypass Jarvis and hide a few things,” Natasha says with a simper. She loves when other people are good at being sneaky. “That is until today, when Tony found his dirty laundry. The fight wasn’t so bad until Tony let it slip that he ‘parental check-ins’ on Pepper, too,” Natasha gossips. “That’s when she told him she kind of knew Peter might have a boyfriend.”

“Yikes,” Sam frowns.

“What a shitshow,” Clint states.

Steve turns to James, “I guess today wasn’t a good day for you to get to know my family.”

“We want to leave, but Tony keeps catching us, insisting dinner is still happening,” Thor says. “I swear there’s less drama at my family dinners than this.”

Maria rolls her eyes. “Doubt it.”

Clint sighs. “So, what we going to do? Hid in the kitchen until—”

Laura shushes him, eyes on the ceiling. “They stopped fighting.” She’s right. It’s quiet. After a moment though, they hear thundering footsteps trampling down the stairs. “I think they’re coming in the kitchen.”

They each try to act casual, lounging in poor imitations of the word.

Tony and Pepper turn the corner and enter the room.

Pepper immediately appears apologetic and embarrassed. “Hey, guys, look, you don’t have to—”

“Barnes! This is your fault,” Tony shouts.

“Me?! What did I do,” James exclaims.

“Did you introduce my son, my _underage_ son, to Wade Wilson?”

“Tony, I told you a million times that James had nothing to do with this,” Pepper reminds her husband.

James rolls his eyes. “They met at my place when I forgot I asked Wade to come over when you guys were fighting Ulik and his troll army in San Francisco. Wade was there for all of 10 minutes before I made him go home.”

Tony folds his arms over his chest. “Because he was perving on my kid.”

“He _complimented_ Peter, but yeah, I didn’t want anything seen as inappropriate to happen, so I told Wade to go home, and he left.”

“Well, as it turns out, they must’ve exchanged numbers when your back was turned.”

“Wait. Wade and Peter having been texting each other,” Steve asks.

“Oh, they’ve been doing more than texting from what I’ve read in those messages.”

“Like what? Give specifics,” Clint teases.

“Not now, Barton,” Tony snaps. Tony turns his attention back to James. “Wade is a 40-year-old Alpha fooling around with my Omega son. Peter is way too young to be claimed.”

“Did-did he let Wade claim him,” Steve asks.

“No, thank god,” Pepper tells him. “But from what’s in their emails and texts, they’ve certainly discussed it. But Wade wants Peter to finish college first.”

“Oh, how noble of him,” Tony snipes.

“But have they…” Laura trails off, waving her hand suggestively.

“No. But…there…has…been some…sexting. And lewd photos exchanged,” Pepper admits.

Natasha spits her vodka martini on herself, trying, and failing, to hide a giggle.

“Oh, you think this is funny, Romanov,” Tony yells.

“A little,” she confesses.

“Get out! All of you,” Tony barks.

“We were trying to leave over an hour ago,” Thor grumbles under his breath.

Everyone puts down their alcohol, more than happy to go. The night is a bust; Tony and Pepper need to figure out what to do about their son’s relationship with a 40 year old, smart-mouthed spy, and having their friends bear witness to their initial reaction to it isn’t a good way to think abut the next step they should take in tackling it.

Steve grabs James’ hand as they make for the front door, following behind Sam and Maria, but James stops.

“Look, I’m sorry you found out like this. I swear to you, I didn’t know,” James tells Tony and Pepper. “But for what it’s worth, Wade really is a good man. It may not look like it right now, but I promise you he is.”

Tony scoffs, still bubbling with rage. Steve doesn’t blame him.

“He tells Peter he loves him. A lot,” Pepper says. “Do you think that’s true?”

The corner of James’ mouth turns up in a smirk. “Wade Wilson is a smartass with no filter, but he would never casually throw certain words around to just anybody. Especially not _those_ three words. If he says it, he means it.”

Tony storms out.

Pepper nods. “Thank you.” And goes after him.

Steve squeezes James’ hand. “Let’s go.”

Steve leads him out of the penthouse to the elevators. They take the lift to the ground floor and exit through the lobby. Outside the front door stands the rest of The Avengers and their significant others.

“We’re drunk,” Laura tells Steve and James gleefully.

“And hungry,” Clint adds. “Seeing as how a bunch of family drama put the kibosh on dinner.”

“We’re going to [Tacombi](https://tacombi.com/),” Maria says. “I know the owner, and he owes me a favor. Like a table for 10 at the last minute on a Saturday night kind of favor.”

James turns to Steve. “The night over for you, doll?”

Steve smiles. “Not when I’m with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> This chapter takes place in June 2022
> 
> Just to let everyone know, there is no mpreg in this universe. I love mpreg (as so indicated by previous works and bookmarks), but I didn't really want it to be a thing that happened within the universe of this story taking place. Thought about it, but decided ultimately against it. Also, you can probably already tell that everyone with this universe's A/B/O is pansexual and being so is as common as breathing.


	9. Sandalwood & Elderflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

They don’t last long; the serum makes sure his body heals in all manner of rough treatment and as accelerated as possible. So, Steve takes pictures of them. He takes pictures of the ones on his hips and wrists, purple and pockmarked with James’ fingerprints. He smiles as he takes pictures of the bruising on his knees and inner thighs. He tentatively touches the hickeys and bite marks on his chest, remembering each one, snapping pics of them. He especially loves the pictures of the ones around his neck, the exact size of James’ hand when it wraps around his throat, leaving eggplant-colored welts.

He’s woken up every morning for the last week, eager to scroll through the photos on his phone and find the ones of his pale, naked body marked the way an Omega’s body should be marked.

He wraps his hand around his hard cock and recalls how he got every one of them. Of all the times James took him apart and healed him with a "bruised tattoo," owning his body.

He wonders (not for the first time) how a claiming bite would look on his neck at the pulsepoint. How long would it stay before the serum closed the indented teeth marks left there by his Alpha? How long could Steve feel it even after its gone? Forever? A few weeks? Would the skin be tender there always? Could he touch it and wince at the sore flesh as he pumps his dick in his hand? Would James’ scent really bury itself there, under his skin, marking him there for all the world to know?

Steve thinks about it a lot. He thinks about James licking him there, sucking a love bite into his skin, then opening his sinful mouth wide, to latch onto his pulse, biting down hard. Breaking skin with droplets of blood on his tongue and lips.

He wants James to come there, too. He wants him to bite into his neck, claiming him, then mark him with the hot balm of his cum. He wants to rub it into his skin, keeping his scent there.

“Oh, James…” Steve moans, spilling onto his fist. He dropped his phone somewhere on the floor, no longer able to hold as he masturbated. He grabs two tissues from his nightstand and cleans himself up.

He lies there a moment with a sated smile on his face.

_Yes_, he thinks. _I want it just like that_.

∞∞∞

Steve pushes her wheelchair into the [sunroom](https://www.kathykuohome.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/sunroom_061.jpg), beaming with bright, warm sunlight. Her long, grey hair looks radiantly white under the sunbeams bouncing off the glass. He brings her to a potted rose bush in the corner. She smiles at it, gently touching its silky petals.

“My mother had the loveliest roses. She was so proud of them.”

Steve pulls a chair close to her. “Did she teach you how to grow them?”

Peggy smiles, remembering. “She did. Before the war. We had such a wonderful garden...”

“I love the city, but New York was so…brown. And grey. But in the summer, it came to life with so much color. And in the winter, when it snowed, everything looked so clean and new that you were too afraid to touch it.”

“Was never a fan of winter. I loathe the cold.”

“Says the Englishwoman,” Steve chuckles.

“I do say, Mr. Rogers! You have no bloody idea how keen I was to come to America before the war. Why do you think I stayed?”

“The food’s better here.”

“I wish an argument can be made about that, but I’m afraid I have to let you have that one.”

“I have to admit the food is better now than it was then,” he agrees.

“Well, of course. We boiled the taste out of everything.”

Steve laughs.

She lifts her wrinkled, liverspotted hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek. “You always did have such a beautiful smile.”

He covers her hand with his own; young and smooth, devoid of blemish. “No. That was you, Pegs.”

“You always sell yourself short. Even when you were no taller than my shoulder you were still one of the most handsome men I’d ever met.”

Steve blushes. “I think I was a little taller than your shoulder, Pegs.”

“Bosh! You were as frail and as small as a baby bird. Taken under my wing and kicked into gear.”

“You gave great pep talks, I’ll admit.”

She chuckles. “I do recall telling you to get off your arse once or twice. Should we have tea now?”

“I’d love some.”

“You have to drink it properly. With milk.”

“I know.”

“Greta! Greta?”

A 40-ish woman in pink scrubs with dirty blonde hair enters the sunroom from within the house. “Yes, Ms. Carter?”

“Would you mind serving Mr. Rogers and myself tea? We’d like [elevenses](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elevenses).”

“Sure. Ms. Carter.”

Steve and Peggy thank her as she leaves to get tea ready for them.

“A sweet boy that likes to bake delicious pastries lives next door. He brings me the most glorious treats, Steve. He has a crush on a boy in his cooking class, but he’s shy and finds it hard to talk to him, so I told him to bake something lovely for him. I’ve convinced him into baking the other young man a [banoffee pie](https://confessionsofabakingqueen.com/banoffe-pie/).”

“You should give him a few of your roses to give to the other boy, too.”

She excitedly smacks his hand. “What a fantastic idea! …Do boys like receiving flowers,” she wonders.

Steve thinks of all the times James has given him flowers thus far and smiles. “Yes. Yes, Pegs, boys like getting flowers.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. After tea.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You know what else is a good idea? Some music. I think we need a little melody with our tea,” she says.

“I’d like that.”

“Find us a record then.”

Steve gets up and walks to the record player in another corner of the room. He flips through her records of jazz and blues from their time, until he finds an Ella Fitzgerald album. He carefully places it on the record player and gently moves the needle onto the record. [“Isn’t This A Lovely Day”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOG1holappU) plays.

Steve closes his eyes, recalling just a week ago when he played this very song for James and the other man took his hand and danced with him in his living room. Or at least Steve tried to. For the most part he ended up stepping on James’ feet, clumsy and unfamiliar with how to slow dance. But James smiles, was patient, and wouldn’t let Steve go anywhere until they finished at least one song without Steve mashing James’ toes into the hardwood floor.

Steve got the hang of it after two more songs, and by the time [“Moonlight In Vermont”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8HgdIJ_i7k) played, he and James were twirling gracefully around the room.

“Peggy… I-I need to tell you something.”

“Good or bad?”

“…Good. I hope.”

He crosses the room, returning to her side.

“No need to be nervous, pet.”

Peggy could always see right through him. She’d get right to the heart of his dilemma and tell him to move forward. Push through. Keep calm and carry on. And he wasn’t lying; she does give the best pep talks.

“Peggy… I’ve met someone. Someone that’s…made me very happy. As happy as I ever could be. I feel terrible telling you that, but I want you to know. And I want you to meet him.” He takes her hand into his, “I want you to meet James. He’s a good man and—”

“Steven…? St-Steven, is that you…?” Tears well in her sad eyes. “Oh! You look so young. You look… I thought you were gone.”

He forgets that it only last so long. That she’s with him for only burst at a time now, or not at all. Her good days are getting few and far between. It tears his heart in two each time he loses her. But Peggy wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want him fretting over her. She wouldn’t want him broken up about it.

He squeezes her hand. “Now, how could I leave my best girl? She owes me a dance, remember?”

Overcome with emotion, Peggy leans her head onto Steve’s shoulder and cries.

* * *

**JAMES**: Come over.

**STEVE**: Okay. Just finishing up this ridiculous meeting Fury and I got tricked into.

**JAMES**: No. Come over *now*.

**STEVE**: Everything alright?

**STEVE**: James?

**STEVE**: James???

**STEVE**: On my way.

∞∞∞

Steve had to stop at S.H.I.E.L.D to drop off a confidential file Fury let him look over at home and got suckered into a meeting with [Alexander Pierce](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Alexander_Pierce), the head of S.H.I.E.L.D and Secretary of the World Security Council. Along with S.H.I.E.L.D's entire PR team. The distinguished, gray-haired man wanted to talk to Steve about his sexual harassment suit against Rumlow, and how _“embarrassing such an action would be" f_or the government agency.

His pussy-footing around suggesting Steve drop the suit annoyed him more than the gall he had in asking in the first place. Steve curtly told him no, he would not drop the case and that if Pierce had anything further he’d like to discuss with Steve, it’d be best if he could contact Pepper Potts-Stark instead.

Pierce didn’t like his response and snidely remarked with _"how humiliating it would be for the world to find out the living legend that is Captain America was not only an Omega, but one that was easily overpowered by a basic Alpha in the men’s locker room. They’d lose confidence in you, and this institution,”_ he said with a cold, refinement. The type of calculated yet civil threat you’d expect from a politician.

That’s when James texted him.

He gave the secretary one final ‘no’ and rushed out of Fury’s office, hopping on his bike and speeding to James’ place.

Steve remembers last night, over dinner, how James looked a little out of sorts and seemed uncomfortable throughout the day. He turned in early saying he wasn’t feeling well, leaving Steve to finish watching [bad reality TV](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pb7CBZ952zs) by himself.

Steve hurries off the elevator onto James’ floor and to his apartment. He uses the key he gave him to unlock the door. It’s freezing. The A/C is turned all the way up. But given how hot it is outside, Steve gets why.

“James?”

James enters from the bedroom. He’s completely naked, pupils blown wide and black. Steve can _smell_ him. Alphas don’t really have a smell outside of their rut. And it’s usually only detected by other Alphas, and Omegas.

Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest. He’s thought about sharing James’ rut with him since kissing him in Bucharest, but since James has been back in New York, he hasn’t had one yet.

Betty said that happens sometimes when an Alpha is on suppressants for longer than 30 days, his rut delays, and James was taking meds for the entire 5 months he was on assignment in Wakanda. Therefore, Steve’s been waiting impatiently since then for James’ rut to start. And it seems his silent prays are about to be answered.

“You smell like sandalwood and elderflower.”

“Take your clothes off,” James tells him.

Steve doesn’t hesitate and quickly sheds his clothing. James is on him in 3 seconds; he has Steve pressed against the front door, kissing him breathless. He lifts him off the floor and Steve wraps his legs around him.

They stumble around the place, trying to make it to the bedroom, but unwilling to stop making out long enough to pay much attention to where they’re going. They end up in the kitchen. James knocks everything to the floor and dumps Steve atop the kitchen table. James’ hands and lips are desperately all over him.

He tries to shove two fingers into him and Steve grabs his wrist, stopping him. “_Waitwaitwait_.” The Alpha growls at him. Steve doesn’t want to find that sexy, but he does. He looks around for something to— there’s a bottle of [extra virgin olive oil](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06X9KH5T7/ref=twister_B075FHV388?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1) by James’ feet. “That.”

James grabs it, twist the cap off, and douses his fingers in it.

Steve lies back, out of breath, and trembling with want. He gasps as James works his fingers in and out of him. He moans, wretched and dirty, as the other man fingers him, finding his spot and jabbing at it. He grips Steve’s neck with his other hand and it’s too much so suddenly. He comes with a loud, long moan.

He barely catches his breath before James flips all 240 lbs. of him onto his stomach. His cock shoves into him with ease. Steve grips the edge of the table as James pounds into him relentlessly.

The grip on his hip and in his hair are both painful and exactly what the Omega wants right now. He wants James to lose as much control as his rut will allow him. The pitiful Omega in him wants nothing more than for James to lose himself in getting off, in using Steve like a rag doll, until he’s done. He wants to give James this, this pleasure and insatiable need that’s driving him to fuck Steve without reservation.

James lets go of his hair. He presses the side of his face into the wood and doesn’t lose stride.

Steve comes again, quietly dribbling cum between his belly and the table.

James roars above him and Steve can feel him stiffen as he fills him up with his release. He smiles, proud of himself for giving James exactly what he needs.

He feels James’ sweaty, warm forehead pressed into his shoulder blade. His breath ghosts over his skin. Steve reaches behind him and runs a hand through James’ damp hair. The Alpha pulls out of him. Steve feels the mess it makes down his thighs.

He turns over, James is hovering over him. He’s still sex-drunk in the peak haze of his rut. His black eyes roam all over Steve’s flushed body. He brings his hand up, gently caressing the features of Steve’s face, like he can’t believe Captain America is all his. And only his.

Steve sucks his thumb into his mouth, keeping his eyes on the Alpha. He watches in pure fascination as Steve treats his finger like a lollipop.

James is still hard. Steve reaches down to stroke his cock. It’s greasy from the oil, but wet at the tip, making Steve moan around the thumb in his mouth.

James snatches him up like he’s feather-light and carries him into the bedroom.

He drops Steve onto the bed and pushes him onto his back. He crawls onto the bed beside him but turns his body to face the direction of Steve’s feet. He takes Steve’s cock into his mouth. Steve sighs, loving the wet heat the envelopes his hardening dick.

James wraps his arms around Steve’s thighs, still sucking him off, and twists them into a 69 position.

Steve doesn’t miss a beat and takes James into his drooling mouth.

James squeezes and smacks his cheeks, sliding a finger along his crack and teasing his hole. Steve moans around his cock.

He pulls off for a moment to wet his middle finger before taking James back into his mouth. He takes his spit-soaked finger and rubs gently at James’ entrance. He’s only touched James here once before, while giving him a blowjob on his birthday. He seems just as receptive to it now as he was then, so Steve keeps at it, tentatively prodding his finger into the puckered tightness.

James sucks him off faster, harder, the more Steve attempts to push his finger inside him.

He’s finding it hard to concentrate. There’s too much going on and it feels too good: James strong arms around his thighs, his wet mouth around his sensitive cock, the hard smack to his left cheek, and long finger inside him, so close to his prostate make it hard for him to focus on doing the same to the sexy spy. He whimpers and James runs a soothing hand along the small of his back.

Steve relaxes and breathes deep through his nose. He slips the tip of his finger past James’ rim, then sinks his mouth all the way down the other man’s cock, gagging on it, drool falling out his mouth and onto the bedding. James cants his hips, shoving deep into Steve’s hungry mouth.

Steve is surrounded by James’ scent. He wants to bury himself in it. He takes him as far back into his throat as he can. It makes James pull off his cock and groan. The dark-haired man grips Steve’s long dick into his fist and jerks him off viciously, licking at the tip.

Steve sucks harder, faster, trying to keep rhythm with James’ strokes.

Steve pushes his finger deeper into James. He hears the other man moan and feels him shutter at the sensation. Steve pushes in a little further and curls his finger, searching. He knows he’s found James’ spot when his hold on Steve’s dick becomes a tick below painful, but Steve presses on it hard anyway.

James comes down his throat.

Steve swallows most of it but chokes and coughs up what he can’t; his chin and neck wet with spit and semen. James twists around to climb atop him, holding him, and cleans it all off with his tongue in long, lewd licks. Steve captures James’ tongue in his mouth and they kiss obscenely, licking it each other’s mouths.

James reaches downward to stroke his aching cock. Three hard strokes and Steve is spilling all over James’ hand with a shudder and his name from between his lips.

James slides down Steve’s body a bit and takes his right nipple into his mouth and pinches the left one, Steve’s body is a live wire, hypersensitive and pink. He’s hardly come down from his last orgasm before James is all set to give him another. He wants to squirm and turn away, but he loves when James plays with his nipples, when he licks them, sucks them, pinches and twists them between his fingers. It gets his cock wet and standing at attention.

“You’re not going to let me go anywhere, are you?”

James doesn’t answer and instead pushes Steve’s legs open wider, with his knees, and settles between them. Steve wraps his legs around the brunet’s thighs.

He moans, back arching off the bed, when James takes his right nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking it. “Good. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

∞∞∞

A gentle shaking stirs Steve awake. His eyes flutter open as he tries to focus. He’s in bed, at James’ place. From the open window, he can see its nighttime. He’s naked. His body feels relaxed but exhausted. The strenuous, foggy vapor of sharing James’ rut with him lingers in his muscles a bit. But he gradually snakes around anyway, turning in the sheets to the body next to him— James. He’s smiling and holding a cupcake on a small plate. There’s a lit candle in the treat.

“Happy birthday, punk.”

A bashful smile grows on Steve’s face as he sits up.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, sweetheart. I know we had plans you were looking forward to,” James apologizes.

Steve crawls into James’ lap, carefully of the dessert he’s still holding. “I think having really, uninhibited sex with me for nearly 24 hours, and sneaking out to buy me a red, white, and blue [cupcake](http://www.sunnysideupsd.com/2009/07/red-white-and-blue-cupcakes/), does not constitute a ruined birthday.”

“Promise?”

Steve blows out the candle. “Yes.”

“You didn’t make a wish.”

Steve smiles. “Yes, I did.”

Their attention pulls to the window. Fireworks have started. They see them perfectly light up the sky in brilliant colors with pops and sizzles over the Manhattan Bridge.

“That never gets old,” Steve says of them.

James sits the cupcake down on the nightstand and maneuvers Steve, cuddled into his arms, against his chest. They watch the fireworks show and listen to James’ neighbors cheer drunkenly and shoot off bottle rockets. James leans down and kisses his neck.

“How old are you,” James asks.

“A hundred and four.”

“No. How old are you really, Steve?”

He’s made so many jokes and let people make so many jokes about his age that he’s come to accept he really is a hundred years old, but that’s not exactly true, and he’s a little stunned he forgot that. “…Thirty-seven.”

James smiles, running a hand through his blond hair. He leans down to kiss him, sweet but chaste. “Happy 37th birthday, baby.”

* * *

“You don’t need all that, Stevie.”

“Well, I’m not going to show up empty-handed. That’s bad manners.”

“Just bring one.”

Steve shakes his head.

James huffs. “Fine. Bring all of them.”

Steve tightens his hold on the four, small flower bouquets in his arm as they continue down the sidewalk. “Was planning on it.” There’s an expensive bottle of red wine clutched in his other hand that Natasha assured him was a wise decision to bring with them.

“You look seasick,” James smirks. Steve scowls at him. “Okay, stop.” James grabs Steve’s elbow, forcing him to stop walking. “Look at me. You don’t have to be nervous.”

Steve chuckles wryly. He spent an entire week trying to find the perfect [outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397868569/) for tonight, and then hours today, debating whether he should wear it or something else entirely. Natasha and Sam tried to help, but all he did was bite their heads off whenever they made a suggestion or told him to “relax.”

But Steve can’t relax. Not when he’s meeting James’ family for the first time,

The dark-haired spy asked Steve two weeks ago if he’d be interested in having dinner with he and his family tonight. Steve, floored by the prospect of meeting James’ family, enthusiastically said ‘yes’ before really thinking about what he’d agreed to. When it finally dawned on him that he’d be meeting his boyfriend’s parents (after the wide-eyed looks he got from Sam), Steve had every intention of backing out of his commitment. But the large, anticipating smile on James’ face at his obligation reminded Steve every day, for 14 days, that he couldn’t back out; it was too late.

Therefore, he’s nervously walking the streets of Brooklyn with four bouquets of flowers in his arm, a bottle of wine in the opposite hand, and wearing a $2,000 outfit he’d ordinarily never pay so much money for if it weren’t for the occasion.

“There’s nothing to worry about. My family is great. Pains in the ass, but great, nonetheless. Just be yourself. Okay?”

Steve takes a breath. “…Yes. Okay.”

“Good,” James asks.

Steve nods.

“Great. Because we’re here.” James nods to the Park Slope [brownstone](https://www.elikarealestate.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/buying-a-brownstone.jpeg) they’re standing in front of and smiles.

The lights are on, but curtains drawn. Steve can hear familiar laughter and loud talking through the front window. His heart beats nervously through his chest as they ascend the steps to the front door.

“Want a blow job?”

Steve’s head whips around to the other man. “What? Now? Here?”

James shrugs. “Well…yeah. I feel like it might calm you down.”

“I… No?”

James chuckles. “You sure?”

“Yes?”

“What do you call a shoe made out of a banana,” James asks.

“W-what?”

“What do you call a shoe made out of a banana,” James repeats.

Steve’s so thrown by the sudden, odd question that his mind goes blank, confused as to if he should attempt to answer, or ask James why he would ask him such a weird thing. Now. On his parent’s stoop.

“A slipper,” James replies.

And it’s the tritest, most childlike joke he’s ever heard, at such a strange moment, that the only thing Steve can do is laugh. Laugh with his whole face cracked into a squinty smile and a bellow barking deep from within his belly.

James grips his neck and pulls him to his lips, kissing him soft and sweet. Steve melts into it, moaning, trying to keep his grip on the wine bottle in his hand. He knows what James is doing now with offering him a blowjob and telling him a stupid joke then kissing him. He honestly grateful for it, and actually feels more at ease because of it.

They’re interrupted, however, by a chorus of ‘awwwws’.

Steve turns beet red at the three, dark-haired women standing in the open doorway, making precious googly eyes at them.

A tall, grey-haired man in round eyeglasses appears behind them, spritzing them with a spray bottle of water like naughty kittens. “Alright, scatter! Leave your brother and Captain America alone.”

The three women flee further into the house, giggling.

“You promised me they’d behave,” James says to the man.

He has a smooth, charming smile that Steve just knows made women swoon when he was younger. But also, a respected, no-nonsense manner about him. Steve isn’t surprised he’s a retired Army colonel; he looks the part. Steve, however, is a bit startled that he can instantly pick on the other man being a Beta.

“That’s why I got the spray bottle.” He turns to Steve. “You must be Capt. Rogers.” He extends his hand. “[Col. George Barnes](https://media.gettyimages.com/photos/kevin-costner-at-the-hidden-figures-press-conference-at-the-four-on-picture-id620188080). This idiot’s father.”

James rolls his eyes with a playful grin on his red lips.

Steve shifts the wine bottle to his other hand to shake George’s large paw. It’s strong and calloused. “Pleasure, colonel.”

George nods to the wine in Steve’s hand. “That for dinner?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replies. He offers it to the colonel.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers. Please come in,” George says. He steps aside to let them in and closes the door behind James.

“Just ‘Steve’ is fine, sir,” Steve tells him.

“Okay. I, on the other hand, thoroughly miss being called ‘sir’, so keep it up.”

“Come on, dad,” James chides.

“You’d think my son, a fellow serviceman, would understand the hard work put into obtaining a title and the pride at being addresses as such,” George teases, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“Not tonight. Steve’s here as my boyfriend. Not Captain America.”

“I finally see why his sisters like pulling his pigtails so much; he’s so easily rankled,” George says, winking at Steve.

Steve smiles. He immediately decides he likes George. He reminds him a lot of his own father…

He grabs his son and hugs him, tight. Steve watches James smile and wrap his arms around his father.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, dad.”

Steve feels a little guilty, knowing he’s been hogging all of James’ attention since he got back from Wakanda. He never stopped to think about how much James’ family may want to spend time with him, too. But like he told Tony, he forgets he has to share James with other people.

James takes Steve’s hand. George guides them into the house.

The interior has a very beige and traditional décor, but it feels lived-in, homey. James’ sisters stand waiting for them in the [living room](https://www.houzz.com/photos/river-dunes-captains-house-traditional-living-room-atlanta-phvw-vp~3588188), buzzing, bouncing on their heels with anticipation in formally meeting their brother’s superhero boyfriend. They beam at Steve.

A woman in her mid-50s hurries out of the kitchen untying the apron around her waist and tossing over her shoulder. There’s a wide, excited smile on her face as she rushes toward Steve and James. She’s tall, with short black hair, and the loveliest smile. Steve can see why the Barnes kids are so attractive; they get it from their stunning mother.

“Mom, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, my mom, [Winifred Barnes](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ce/81/3a/ce813a7b0ca19899457c1f9eaa7934e3.jpg).”

“It’s a pleasure to _finally_ meet you, Steve,” Winifred tells him, shaking his offered hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am. These are for you,” he says, and hands her, and James’ sisters each a [small bouquet of tulips](https://media.karousell.com/media/photos/products/2019/02/07/valentines_pink_tulips_bouquet_1549548699_d0779a0f.jpg). “Thank you for inviting me over for dinner and into your lovely home.”

Each of them gapes at the sweet gesture of flowers given to them by Captain America himself.

“Thank you, Steve.” Winifred gives him a hug, and it surprises Steve with how natural it feels.

“And these are the [grey witches](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graeae),” James jokes, pointing to his sisters.

“I don’t understand that reference, but I’m sure it’s nerdy,” says the youngest one, an Omega. Steve finally takes notice of the fact that she looks to be about 7 months pregnant. She’s all belly, managing to remain slim and waifish everywhere else on her body.

“You must be [Grace](https://hips.hearstapps.com/sev.h-cdn.co/assets/cm/15/09/54eece7b5e0d0_-_sev-when-i-was-17-crystal-reed-001-de.jpg?fill=320:426&resize=480:*),” Steve guesses.

“I am. It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’m sorry you have such mediocre taste in men.”

James scowls at her and Steve tries hard not to laugh at her teasing. Instead, he turns to the doe-eyed Beta who dresses a lot like the hipsters at the bar he and James frequent. “Rebecca?”

“Yup. But you can call me ‘[Becca](https://ca-times.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/f150085/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2048x1330+0+0/resize/840x546!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fca-times.brightspotcdn.com%2Fce%2F68%2Fb5117bbc1e40bab9b0eadf653f96%2Fla-1464829912-snap-photo)’.”

“And you must be Francis,” Steve concludes at the bespectacled Omega.

“[Frankie](https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/8aXRz3qzsfdRC36IEA0XYg--~A/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjtzbT0xO3c9NjE4O2g9NDEy/http://media.zenfs.com/en_US/News/TheWrap/_Awkward_s__Ashley_Rickards_Talks_Jenna-b3bc3150b1f6c395cc36da81d4945a53)’s cool,” she smiles shyly.

“It’s nice meeting you, ladies. James talks about you all the time,” Steve tells them.

And he does. Steve knows James is fiercely protective of them all, but Becca is favorite sister that’s a kindergarten teacher at an underfunded elementary school in Queens. She’s divorced with two kids, a son and daughter, currently spending the summer with their dad in Minnesota. Frankie is an environmental engineer that spends most of her time jet-setting between here, D.C., and a research facility in Greenland. James said she’s a shy wallflower but a brilliant scientist. And Grace is a married fashion blogger whose wife is an off-Broadway playwright.

“’James’? You make your boyfriend call you ‘James’,” Grace teases.

“Is-is that not what I should call you,” Steve asks, nervous about not being in on the joke.

“It’s my name, so yes, baby.”

“But we call him ‘Bucky’.” The smile on Grace’s face gives Steve the impression it’s a nickname James isn’t too fond of.

“Your alias,” Steve asks.

James groans.

“You use your nickname for an alias? You’re not exactly a clever spy, are you?”

James turns to Steve. “She’s only giving my all this sass because she’s pregnant and she knows I won’t put her in a headlock while she is. And she’s just generally showing-off in front of you,” he says of his baby sister.

“Alright, you two. Don’t make me get the spray bottle,” George butts in. “James’ middle name ‘Buchanan’ is a family name and we call him ‘Bucky’ for short, Steve. But if Buck wants to go by his given name, he has every right to. Now, are we all done picking on each other and fawning over Captain America or can we eat? Your mother made [sausage and peppers](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397873961/?nic=1) and I’m starving.”

“Is sausage and peppers okay, Steve,” Winifred asks.

“Sounds perfect.”

∞∞∞

“I don’t see what the big deal is. My mother was 15 years old when she met my father and sixteen when he claimed her,” Winifred says, pouring herself a fifth glass of wine.

They killed the bottle Steve brought over hours ago. Becca ran into the kitchen, grabbing bottle after bottle each time one was finished. George had a glass with dinner but switched to scotch when Winifred brought out [dessert](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/828873506395931812/).

They’ve been at the [dining room table](https://www.houzz.com/photos/river-dunes-captains-house-rustic-dining-room-atlanta-phvw-vp~3588248) for a good 4 hours now, telling stories, gossiping, and laughing. Steve likes them; they’re loud, animated, and welcoming; happy drunks with good memories. They’ve already told half a dozen embarrassing stories about James and Steve’s face hurts from laughing so hard at them. They’re a close family and it shows. James smiles so much around them and it fills Steve’s chest with a glowing warmth. He can’t believe he thought about backing out…

“That was a different era, ma,” James reminds her. “Tony is right; seventeen is way too young to be claimed.”

“But you said Wade loves him,” Frankie politely objects. “How much does age matter when you’ve found ‘the one’?”

Steve can tell she’s the hopeless romantic of the group. He’s not surprised given her strong Omega tendencies. She seems to check all the boxes of what people expect Omegas to be: timid, docile, beautiful, introverted, romantic, naïve…

“I think Peter’s parents are worried about his future as well as his heart. Not all bonded pairs work out. Most do, but some don’t. And when it doesn’t… It hurts. A lot. Especially for the Omega,” Steve shares.

James squeezes his knee under the table. “Steve’s right. [Connie](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Connie) and I were too young when we tried to bond, and it ended horribly.”

“Same for me and Luke…the bastard,” Becca chimes in,

James told him Becca and her ex-husband officially divorced earlier this year before spending two years separated after she caught him having an affair with his Omega boss.

“I guess it’s just hard for me to object when I know Wade,” Winifred admits. “He’s a good man. A smart-ass, but a good man. So, I know he loves this boy, Peter. I hope it all works out.”

“Me, too,” Steve discloses.

Winnifred gasps! “Oh, my god, Bucky! Remember when we thought you and Wade were boned?”

The table clamors in uproarious laughter as James groans. “Can we be done with the ‘Humiliating Stories About Bucky Hour’, please?”

“Oh, no,” Steve protests. “I at least want to hear this one.”

∞∞∞

“Oh, Steve, leave that. You’re a guest. Go back and play Pictionary with Bucky and the girls,” Winifred tells him.

Steve and George wound up on the same team, but his partner had a little too much dessert and a little too much scotch and passed out in his favorite armchair halfway through the third round. Steve’s amused that he made that far into the game.

He came into the [kitchen](https://www.houzz.com/hznb/photos/lake-country-builders-rustic-kitchen-minneapolis-phvw-vp~451517) to scrape his plate and found himself washing dishes instead, loving the noisy sounds of his boyfriend’s family playing board games in the other room as he washed up.

Winifred shoos him away from the sink and tosses a dishtowel at him to dry his hands.

“Bucky calls you his ‘boy scout’. He wasn’t kidding, was he?”

Steve blushes. “I guess not, ma’am.”

“’Winnie’ is fine, Steve.”

Steve nods.

“You’re the only person he’s brought home since Connie,” Winnie shares. “He’s dated here and there over the years but you’re the only one he’s brought over to meet us. He said his job prevented him from making any relationships he thought serious enough to bring home, but I know that was just an excuse. He was holding out for someone to be proud of. Someone worth it. I know my son. He’s more of a romantic than Frankie. He just hides it better.”

“I don’t know if I’d say he hides it,” Steve tells her.

She smiles. “Good. I’m glad teaching him to be a gentleman was something he actually listened to and put into practice.”

“He’s absolutely a gentleman.”

“Do you feel taken care of?”

“Yes.”

“That makes me happy. My mother told me what Alphas were like in your day. It’s one of the reasons she latched on so quickly and so young to my father; he was one of the good ones.”

“I got lucky with James.”

She affectionately touches his cheek. “Two people looking for love and finding it makes them both lucky.”

Steve knows now why the hug she gave him earlier felt so appropriate. Why he wants so much for her to like him, to approve of him. It’s because James seems to be all the best parts of her.

The kitchen door swings open gently. Speak of the devil. “Am I interrupting?”

“No. I was just telling Steve he could do better,” his mother jokes.

“Ha, ha. Bunch of comedians in this family.” She pecks his cheek. “We’re going to head out. It’s late and dad passed out ages ago. Plus, me and Frankie kicked Becca and Grace’s ass.” James nods to Steve. “Did this one try to wash up,” he asks his mother with a smirk in Steve’s direction.

“I did…until I was scolded,” Steve says.

“Sounds about right. Do you need help in here? Seriously,” James asks.

“No,” Winnie says. “Becca and Frankie are here. They can help with the dishes. Go home and gets some sleep…or not,” she says suggestively with a wink.

“Oh, my god, ma!” Winnie giggles. “We’re leaving before you make this even weirder.” James pecks Winnie’s cheek. “Thanks. Dinner was good. As always.”

“You’re welcome. Hey. We live in the same city and I finally met your secret boyfriend, so I demand Sunday night dinners, twice a month. With the two of you. You know, if neither of you has to run off and save the world.”

James smiles. “Fair enough.”

“Leave your dad be but make sure to say ‘goodbye’ to your sisters please,” Winnie tells James.

“Thank you, Winnie,” says Steve. He hugs her. It feels just as easy and organic as the first one.

“You’re welcome. And don’t let Becca talk you into taking a selfie with her. She’s just going to brag and show it to all her students.”

_Too late_, he thinks. Becca already cornered Steve hours ago when he was coming out of the half-bath downstairs, right before dessert. She admitted it was for cool points with her class of 5 year olds, which made Steve definitely want to do it. They took several, and the one Steve liked the most she airdropped to him.

“Of course,” he says though. “Thank you again.”

∞∞∞

James has sobered up a bit but is still a little wobbly on his feet as they take the stairs to Steve’s apartment. They rarely spend time here, choosing to be at James’ place more often. But the brunet man wanted a hot shower and to pass out as quickly as he could, so Steve’s apartment was the better option given James’ parents live closer to Steve than they do to [DUMBO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8AsaMI45m4).

“Why not? It’s cute.”

“It’s silly and I’ve outgrown it, Steve.”

“But your family calls you ‘Bucky’ and it’s adorable. I want to, too.”

“No, you don’t. You just want to bug me about it. Which to me means I’m going to have to limit your interactions with my sisters more in the future. They’ve clearly rubbed off on you.”

Steve laughs. James is right; Steve could care less what James prefers to be called by him. Just so long as the sergeant keeps calling Steve his.

James bumps into Steve’s shoulder. “In all honesty though, think my family likes you.”

Steve smiles. “I think I like them, too. Your sisters are funny, and your parents are sweet.”

James chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard my dad described as ‘sweet’ before.”

“Well, he is. I think they way he loves you all is very sweet. You mean the world to him and it shows.”

“He told me he’d always been kind of [broody](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/broody) growing up. Really eager to start a family. He said he loved the military, but always wanted something more. Something to balance out the horrors of fighting. Something good to come home to.” James grins, “You should have seen him when my sisters were born... Ma said he looked like that when I was born, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like the happiest man on Earth.”

Steve takes James hand into his. “My ma got told she couldn’t have kids. Or at least none she’d be able to bring to term. Then I showed up a year later. Tiny and sick. But she wanted me still. She and my dad. Loved me unconditionally. I felt that every single day when they were alive.”

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine losing my folks like that, one after the other. Feeling alone.”

“It’s part of the reason I joined the Army. I really wanted to fight, to fight for the right thing, but I also needed a stable bed to sleep in, three square meals a day, and people to be around. When they finally let me enlist, I cried. I wasn’t going to feel so by myself anymore.”

“I don’t think you realize how strong you are sometimes,” James tells him. “I can’t even think of another person who could’ve gone through everything you’ve been through, and still get up every morning.”

“Work. Fighting with The Avengers helped. It gave me a purpose at least...” Steve smiles, recalling something, “But then you yelled at us like unruly toddlers and it made me think about things, about myself, a little deeper. I wanted to be better. I wanted to try being happy.”

They reach the third floor landing, turning the corner toward Steve’s apartment, at the end of the hall.

“…Are you?”

“With you?”

James stops. Steve stops walking, too. “Yeah. Are you happy with me?”

“Yes. I… James, I… I lo—”

_“Steve.”_

Their attention is drawn toward the end of the hall, at Steve’s apartment. Natasha and Sam are there, waiting, with somber looks on their faces. Four long strides and Steve is in front of them.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“We tried to call you,” Sam says, his voice low, eyes sad.

“I forgot my phone. Is… What’s going on,” he asks, growing impatient and nervous.

Sam and Natasha exchange worried looks.

“Somebody say something. Now,” he demands.

Natasha takes a breath. She rarely has a hard time saying what needs to be said, so Steve braces himself. “Steve, I’m sorry, but it’s Peggy. Peggy’s…gone. She’s gone, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter takes place in July 2022
> 
> George Barnes = Kevin Costner  
Winifred Barnes = Sela Ward  
Rebecca "Becca" Barnes = Emilia Clarke  
Francis "Frankie" Barnes = Ashley Rickards  
Grace Barnes-Danvers = Crystal Reed
> 
> I will be going on a week-long vacation, so no new chapter next week. I'm sorry. But I hope to be able to post chapter 10 by Thursday, October 10th, which is 4 days after I get back:D
> 
> Hope you liked it! Drop me a line; I love comments! xoxo


	10. Dancing with Your Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't always work out for Captain America...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

* * *

Tony has a [house](https://www.houzz.com/hznb/projects/lake-joseph-pj-vj~2818320) in Montana. On a lake. It’s a stunning home with lots of windows and space: high-vaulted ceilings, 5 bedrooms, a second-story balcony, home theater, a patio deck that leads into the water, and a tennis court. It looks lovely at night, with all the twinkling lights hanging in the trees, but even better during the day when the sun is out and water calm. It’s peaceful. Serene. Steve likes it here and is quite frankly surprised Tony would own such a secluded and quiet piece of property, given how gaudy his taste can be.

But Steve’s been here nearly 6 weeks with only his sorrowful thoughts to keep him company and has easily managed to appreciate the stillness of the place with each passing day.

That is until he swims out of the warm water and stalks into the [kitchen](https://www.houzz.com/photos/farmhouse-farmhouse-phvw-vp~108940583) when his rumbling stomach became too great a pain to ignore.

He’s just finished making [chicken salad](https://diethood.com/classic-chicken-salad-recipe/) when he hears a car approaching, coming around the curved driveway. He peeks out the front window to see [Natasha’s car](https://www.carscoops.com/2014/02/this-is-black-widow-corvette-stingray/) park before the front door and the red-headed spy climb out.

Shit.

He debates whether to ignore her knocking all together but knows that’s not only a stupid but pointless idea; she’d pretend to leave and then 10 minutes later he’ll find her snooping through his things upstairs.

He answers the door, not even bothering to hide how annoyed he is that she’s here in the first place, and heads back into the kitchen, leaving her at the door without so much as a ‘Hello’.

Steve returns to his salad. He hears her close the heavy door shut and then the echoing steps of her booted feet on the hardwood floors as she enters the kitchen. He grabs a lemon from the fridge and a knife from the knife block beside the stove.

“Make enough for two,” she asks, breaking the ice.

“What are you doing here, Nat,” he asks, cutting the lemon into halves.

She puts her car keys in her jacket pocket and steps a little closer to him, leaning against the island. Steve’s head stays down, on his food, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not going to tell you how to grieve, or how long you should, but you’ve been out here long enough. You need to come back home.”

He squeezes a lemon half all over the bowl of chicken salad. “And you think that should be now.”

“I think you’re sad and you deserve to be—”

“Thanks,” he says with a tone.

“—but I also think you’ve been here, wallowing, for over a month, and it’s not good for you. Or anyone else.”

“The second week I wallowed. The first I was too numb to feel anything other than lost, so I just walked around from room to room, like an aimless idiot, and by the third week, I caught up on three books, four TV shows, and taught myself how to make [Shepard’s Pie](https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/recipes/a57949/easy-shepherds-pie-recipe/). I’m not wallowing. I’m processing, and I’m good.” He tosses the squeezed half of the lemon into the trashcan under the sink and puts the other half back into the fridge.

“Steve,” she says in that serious tone of voice, “You need to come home and talk to your therapist.”

He slams the refrigerator door shut. “Are you deaf?! Did you not hear me?! I’m fine!”

“Bullshit! No one is fine jumping on their motorcycle and high-tailing it across the country, hiding for weeks on end! You ran. And you ran because you’re scared. And I get it. We all do. But it was still a real shitty move, Steve.”

The moment he saw her car pull up he was determined to not let her make him feel guilty. And he’s sticking to that motive. “…I told Tony I needed a break.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she snaps at his weak rationalization. “You telling Tony and not me or Sam was a dodge. And that evasion has felt nothing but disrespectful these last few weeks. We’re family; I call you my ‘brother’ and you don’t even bother to tell me you need to take off? You ignore all of Sam’s calls and treat me like a gnat at a picnic when I get here, to see if you’re okay, or something resembling okay? That’s not our relationship. We don’t go rouge on each other. Do you even remember how much we hated it when Bruce used to do that?”

He does. After a battle or fight, when Bruce had torn things to shreds as the Hulk, he’d rest up a day or two, then take off in the middle of the night without a trace. Wouldn’t even tell Betty. Which is why she called off their engagement the first time. But he always seemed to know the exact moment when The Avengers needed him; jumping through the air as the big, green guy, and smashing their foes into broken, bloody pieces.

His instability, his inward self-loathing, that drove him into disappearing acts was hated by the whole team. Later addressed in group therapy. Bruce cried his apologies to them all. He already lost Betty to his lone wolf routine. He didn’t want to lose his surrogate family, too.

Steve doesn’t want to either.

He grabs a fork from a drawer and returns to the island. He mixes the squeezed lemon juice into his salad.“…I’m sorry,” he apologizes, unable to meet her eyes. “But I… I needed to go.”

She takes a seat at the island beside him. “Remember when you muted James while he was in Wakanda? Remember when I said when you’re ready, I’ll tell you my theory on why you did that? I think I should tell you now.”

Tears fill his eyes as he stares down into his salad. He didn’t just go rouge on his team. He disappeared on James, too. But he’s been largely able to ignore the throbbing in his chest about it until now. “Nat…don’t. Please.” He may have not figured out what she’s going to say, but he knows whatever it is is going to devastate him, and that ignorance he hated before, sure does look like bliss now. “I know you mean well, but I don’t need—”

“I know you loved Peggy. Like, _loved_ her. Felt like there was no one else on this Earth for you but her. She made you feel seen for the first time in your life. She loved you for you.”

Steve grips hard to the fork in his fist, bending it, as tears stream down his face, remembering Peggy sauntering into that bombed-out bar, in that killer red dress, flirting with him. He remembers their kiss, racing toward Red Skull on his motorcycle. He remembers the smile she gave him when he climbed into the back of the military jeep after passing Col. Phillips’ flag pole test. He remembers her respect, and love, when he was small, and no one but her bothered to give him a second look.

“And it must scare the shit out of you to realize that though she’s your first love, she’s no longer your only,” Nat breaks down. “It must be exciting, and terrifying, after all you’ve been through, and how you felt about her, to have realized you can love again. That your heart didn’t die in the ice with the memory of her.”

She gently takes the fork from his grasp as he inhales a deep, snotty breath. She runs a tender hand over his still damp, blond locks.

“I think while James was in Wakanda you realized something: you could love him. You could love him just as much as you love Peggy. And that, more than him going underground, was what really frightened you.”

Steve wipes his tears away with his hand and sniffles. “Nat. Please stop.”

She takes his hands into hers. “I also think, you were really close to accepting that; a second chance at love. But then Peggy died.”

Steve drops her hand and turns away from her, breath feeling short and ragged, head spinning, hands shaking and throat thick. He moves to the patio doors, pretending to look out onto the crystal waters of the lake. Natasha’s always been a bearer of truth. He loves that about her. but this time it hurts. It cuts into him like a hot knife. He feels stupid and childish and cowardly.

“Your last connection to the past slipped away, leaving you alone in the 21st century. But you’re not alone. You have us. The Avengers. Your family; the Island of Misfit Toys. And you have James. Who I think scares you in a way Peggy never did. ”

Steve whips around to her. “Go. Now. I don’t want you here,” he snarls.

She doesn’t blink, not even the slightest tremble at him in her face, livid and harsh. “Change is already terrifying. But knowing something, being so sure of it, and then finding out you were wrong, has got to be even more scary. You thought you’d never love anyone like you loved Peggy and you were wrong. And when she died—”

He grabs her arm, pulling her off her stool. “I swear, Nat…” he threatens, angry at her for exposing him like this. Making him vulnerable and sad.

“And when she died,” she continues, “it broke your heart. But not like you thought it would. And you know why, Steve… This isn’t you. Steve Rogers doesn’t run away.”

“…I think it’s clear I do.”

“We’re allowed mistakes. But it’s all about how we fix them.”

She peels his grip off her arm. She leans up, on her toes, and pecks his [bearded](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/D8CkPiOXYAEMY5v.jpg) cheek. “I’ll see you. At home.”

Her presumptuousness pisses him off. But they both know he’s coming back to New York, with his tail between his legs, quicker than he wanted to.

Without another word, he watches her exit the kitchen and listens for the front door to open, then close. Steve looks out the window— tears still falling from his eyes, chest tight, fists in a ball, trembling— watching Natasha slide her sunglasses on her face and climb back into her car. She spares him not a glance, nor a honk once she’s behind the wheel, revving the engine, then speeding out of the driveway.

∞∞∞

Steve can’t sleep and doesn’t know why he even thought to try after Natasha’s unexpected visit today. He’s been tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling for hours now.

The tall, endless trees around the lake make everything dark, but the big, fat moon hanging full in the sky shines bright through the windows of the room. It’s beautiful.

Steve climbs out of bed and opens the balcony doors. It’s quiet out. Not even the chittering of racoons can be heard, or the gentle swish of water as fish swim closer to the surface, undisturbed by the evening. He steps out onto the warm summer night and looks up at the moon, wondering if James sees it to, all the way in Brooklyn…

Natasha’s words echo and bobble off the walls of his brain on repeat. He wants to be angry at her. To hate her for barging in on his abrupt meltdown and attempting to shake some sense into him. He wants to be mad she knows him so well, can see right through him, digging through his head to pull out the growing roots of his struggles and showing them to him.

But he can’t. Try as he might. Because she’s right. Everything she called him out on was right. It’s exactly why he ran, biking 2,000 miles to Tony’s lakeside refuge, abandoning everything. Everyone.

He wishes he had more time to work all of his feelings out. To come to all of it on his own. Instead of Natasha turning up and telling him what a coward he’s being. But truth is, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he already knew. He already knew how scared of his own happiness he was. It’s why he couldn’t tell James he loved him and had simply hoped the other man could feel it pour from his entire being when they kissed or made love. But contrary to current circumstances, Steve’s not an idiot. He knows actions may speak louder than words, but words mean something. They have power. And nothing is more powerful than telling someone they are loved.

He’s been told that twice now. From two people his heart beat fast and true for. But only once has he said it back…

He does need to go home. Back to New York.

He can’t hide anymore, or he’ll willfully lose what he’s gained. He’ll lose the trust of his team, his family. And he’ll lose the love of a man he’s not so sure he can live without.

Steve turns back into the bedroom, closing the doors shut and sliding the lock into place. He grabs his cellphone on the nightstand and sets an alarm for 5AM. He should head out on the road as early as he can, he thinks. Montana to New York is a scenic but long drive.

Steve gets back into bed, tucking himself in. He breathes in deep and lets his eyes close.

He can still her Natasha’s words clouding his every thought, but at least now, they’re getting softer, fainter, the more he thinks about going back home and telling his boyfriend he loves him.

* * *

The elevator doors open and Steve helps the old woman three doors down with her [grocery cart](https://www.target.com/p/athome-174-large-wheeled-shopping-utility-cart-red/-/A-10794343). She thanks him with a smile and pinches his cheeks like an adorable grandma, though Steve’s heard Ms. Nesbitt swear like a sailor at the teenage boys that skateboard and loiter in front of the building, from time to time. She invites him to Bingo for the hundredth time while finally entering her apartment, after making him promise to join her next Tuesday at the First United Methodist Church for the upcoming bake sale. Her door snicks closed and Steve turns toward James’ apartment.

His stomach is in knots. Palms sweaty. Heart pounding.

He takes a beat, breathing in and out, exhaling his fears.

Twelve timid steps and he’s at the front door. He raises his hand to knock then slips it back into his pocket.

“Come on, Steve…” he chides himself in a whisper.

He shakes out his hand, feeling numb, and raises a fist to the door. He knocks lightly at first, then raps his hard knuckles just under the peephole.

The seconds agonizingly tick by before the door opens. [James](https://moodesto.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Mens-Summer-Fashion-Ideas.jpg) is on the other side, barefoot in jeans, a tee, and button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leans against the door frame, folding his arms with a cold stare on his face.

“…Hi.”

James rolls his eyes, then chuckles dryly, like Steve’s simple greeting was the most asinine thing he’s every heard.

“C-Can we talk? Can I come in?”

“We can talk but you’re staying out here,” James tells him, glaring at the Avenger.

He knew James would be angry, but he had no idea he’d be this angry. This closed off and hostile. Steve doesn’t blame him though. He’ll just have to work harder at his forgiveness.

“I want to start by telling you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have reacted that way to Peggy’s death. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just… She meant a lot to me.”

“You don’t say…”

His sardonic tone gives Steve pause. He briefly wonders just how much, how often, he’s mentioned Peggy while being with James. How important he’s made his ex-love out to be to his current one.

“I didn’t know how to handle her passing. I know to everyone else she was an old woman with dementia, and it was her time, but to me… To me it wasn’t that long ago she was young, and we were in love. And since waking up from the ice, she’s been the only thing I’ve had to hold onto from the past. I knew we didn’t have much time left, with her being sick, but it still…shocked me and upset me seeing her in that coffin.”

James sighs with a slightly agitated sound behind it. “What are you apologizing for, Steve?”

“What? I don’t-I don’t understand the question…”

“Why are you here, at my door, talking to me? What exactly are you apologizing for? Because I can tell you what you should apologize for. You should apologize for jumping on your fucking bike at Peggy’s funeral and taking off, without a word, to god knows where for over a month.”

Steve had a panic attack at the wake when Peggy’s granddaughter, who bears a surreal resemblance to her grandmother, approached Steve to thank him for coming and giving her eulogy. James hurried to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and a cold cloth. When he returned to the living room, he saw Steve outside through the bay window, jumping on his bike and taking off down the tree-lined street.

That was 6 weeks ago.

James continues, “You should apologize for not once returning any of my calls, texts, or emails the entire time you were MIA. You should apologize for making Tony keep it a secret, from everyone, as to where in the hell you were. You should apologize for the lack of respect and dignity and honesty you’ve failed to show me.”

“James, that’s-that’s what I’m trying to—”

“But most of all, you should apologize for making me spend our entire relationship in Peggy Carter’s shadow.”

Steve’s heart drops, sinking right to the floor, at his feet.

“I don’t need you showing up at my place to tell me how much she meant to you. Trust me, you’ve made that apparent. And I understood that. Because after all you’ve been through, I understood that she was a connection to your past and a bridge to the future, _your future_, here. So, I was willing to wait. To be patient for you to no longer need her like a crutch. It’s why I didn’t pressure you about saying ‘I love you’ back.”

“But I do love you, James. I wanted to come back and tell you that: I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” His curt tone hits Steve in the gut. There’s no truth to it; he does love James. But James doesn’t believe Steve does. His actions have led the man he loves to think his feelings, his deep, earnest feelings, are a lie. “Steve, if you loved me, you would’ve cared enough to talk to me. You would’ve done the only thing I ever asked you to do—be honest. Instead, you fucked off to Montana, ignored any attempts I made at reaching out, trying to understand, and had your friend lie to me about where you were. You don’t give a shit about me, Steve.”

“That’s not true,” he says, with every ounce of conviction he can muster as tears pool in his eyes. “I dragged my feet in telling you, but I swear to god, I love you. That’s… That’s why I disappeared.”

“That makes zero fucking sense, Steve, and I don’t want to waste any more of my time—”

“You terrify me.”

James’ face turns into a hard glower. “No. Absolutely not. We’re not going the whole ‘I love you so much it scares me’ route. It’s a bullshit line and I deserve a better explanation than that.”

“It’s not a line. It’s true,” Steve insists. “Not only did I not expect to fall in love again after I woke up, but I didn’t… I’m sorry I made you feel like second best, but that’s not who you are to me,” Steve cries. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but James, I am asking you to please forgive me.” He wipes the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

James’ jaw tightens. His bottom lip quivers as he tries to fight back the big, fat tears threatening to fall from his eyes. They do anyway, and he brushes them away with his hand. “I don’t trust you anymore, Steve. I don’t trust you to be honest with me. And I don’t trust you with my feelings. My head’s telling me not to. That it’d be a mistake to keep being in love with you.”

“I don’t understand what your saying…”

“…I’m breaking up with you. I’m ending this relationship, before either of us gets anymore hurt than we already are. Namely me.”

Steve remembers not being able to sleep one night, back when he was small, and his ma was alive. A chest cold was keeping him up, making his tired, weak lungs work overtime in the cold, autumn night. But he didn’t want to close the window. His room was always so stuffy when he did, making it even harder to breathe.

He was sitting on the windowsill with a sketchpad in his lap and colored pencils rotating in his hand when he heard Diane O’Leary, a pretty, blonde Omega that lived on the floor above him, and her boyfriend, Richard, outside on the stoop. The gossip around the block was that Diane was only dating Richard to make Billy, the butcher’s son, jealous. But Richard was head over heels for Diane. He adored her. He was a Beta and a perfect gentleman. He took her dancing all the time, bought her flowers, and taught her how to drive. He even took her all the way to the [boardwalk](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_City,_New_Jersey#Boardwalk) in Atlantic City for a show and her favorite taffy.

And although she seemed to treat him nice, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Billy came crawling back, and Diane would break Richard’s heart. And Steve was wide awake, sketching the city, when she did.

He couldn’t hear what she said, opting to whisper, lean in close to him as she put an end to them going steady. But he saw how Richard cried and pleaded with her to reconsider. He also saw Diane’s impatience grow thin with each appeal, until she snatched her hand out of his desperate grasp and pointed at his car.

Steve watched as Richard reluctantly climbed into his car, giving her one last look, hoping she’d change her mind. Diane’s face returned to remorse after fixing into a scowl when she told him to go home. Richard, face distraught and tearful, said one last thing to her, and Steve saw the shake of her head at him.

She at least had the decency to watch as his car turned into the street and headed back home to Staten Island. His car disappeared around the block then she hopped the steps back into the walk-up.

_Poor Richard_, Steve thought. How horrible it must be to love another person one day, then stand in front of them the next, as they tell you things are over. Steve’s heart hurt for him. And countless others who loved and lost in such a way. It was one of the few times in his life that he felt fortunate to have not found love yet. Because at least all he knew was longing, and not heartache. He naively hoped to never experience something like that.

But here he is, nearly 90 years later, standing in front of a door having his heart broken in two. Just like Richard.

“James… I…”

He doesn’t know what to say. How to make this better. How to fix it. How to be forgiven. How to change his mind.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” James says, voice cracking and tears falling from his eyes. He dips quickly back into the apartment, losing his resolve, and closes the door.

Steve listens to the bolt slip into the lock.

James broke up with him.

They’re not together anymore.

They’re…over.

Steve’s deadened. And nauseous. His legs are wobbly, but he makes it to the elevator, nonetheless. It’s getting hard to breathe and bile churns in his stomach. He mashes the down button relentlessly until the lift reaches his floor. Steve hurries inside, smacks the button for the garage, and shifts into a corner. He tries to steady his breathing but can’t. He’s sweating. It’s hot and he feels dizzy. He can’t drive like this. Someone has to come pick him up.

He reaches into his pocket for his cellphone. Something metal flies out his pocket and tings on the floor at his booted feet. He calls Sam, but his clammy butterfingers drops his phone. He reaches down to pick it up, the sudden movement doing nothing for his dizziness. He grabs his phone and sees it. Sees what that metal ting was that flew out of his pocket— the key James gave him. The key to his place he wanted Steve to have. To use to come over whenever he wanted, because James said his home was Steve’s too… James forgot to ask for it back.

He sinks to the floor and sobs. Regretful, broken, wet sobs.

He hears Sam’s worried voice calling out to him through the phone.

The elevator doors open to the dark, underground parking garage. But Steve can’t move. He’s frozen with grief and remorse. He’s in mourning, for the loss of two loves. One surprisingly more painful than the other…

His hand clenches around the gold, jagged metal, tight within his fist. The teeth digging into the pad of his fingers.

James let him in. into his hone. And his heart. He tried to be everything Steve needed, but Steve didn’t try to be anything James needed. So, the other man no longer trusted him. Didn’t want him. Because who wants someone that selfish?

_“Steve? Steve…?”_

He remembers he speed dialed Sam, hearing the tinny voice calling out to him through the phone in his hand.

“Sam?”

_“Steve. You okay?”_

“…No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! And don't fret, this story has a very happy ending ;)
> 
> This chapter takes place during September 2022


	11. Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's not in a good place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

**_"Depression is rage spread thin."_ (George Santayana, philosopher)**

* * *

Steve rubs the furrow between his brows, silently counting to ten.

“Captain Rogers? Captain Rogers…?”

He sighs. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I already have a therapist, so I have no clue as to why I’m being forced to come here.”

She leans in, friendly and open, with her elbows on her knees. “From what I understand, you’ve been avoiding sessions with your regular therapist.”

“Is that what Dr. Houston said? I haven’t been avoiding her. I’ve been busy. I have a job. And that job, saving the world, sometimes requires me to miss therapy sessions. I’m not avoiding anything,” he snaps.

“…She says she hasn’t seen you in two months, after a heated argument you had with her,” Dr. Santiago says.

She’s a short woman with leather-y brown skin and long dark hair she wears in a part down the middle of her head. Steve doesn’t like the way she dresses; ankle-length, pattern skirt with sandals and a tunic shirt. She looks too casual and frumpy. Like it’s on purpose. Like she’s willfully trying to be inoffensive and comfortable, hoping it’ll make her patients let their guard down around her.

Steve scoffs. “It wasn’t as dramatic as you’re making it sound, I asked her for help, she said she wouldn’t, I got upset, maybe said some things I shouldn’t’ve, and then I left.”

“’Wouldn’t’ or ‘couldn’t’?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Dr. Houston ‘wouldn’t’ help you, or ‘couldn’t’ help you?”

“What fucking difference does it make?” It takes a lot for Steve to swear. He’s got a mouth like a sailor when he’s angry (he was in the Army, for god’s sake). But lately it’s not lost on him how many four-letter words he’s been casually throwing around at the slightest hint of annoyance. “I asked for help and she refused.”

“You mean she refused to help convince your ex to take you back?”

Steve’s jaw tightens at the memory of he and Dr. Houston’s argument. “I just wanted her to talk to him.”

Dr. Santiago slips her [floral print glasses](https://www.zennioptical.com/p/womens-tr-cat-eye-eyeglass-frames/20187?skuId=2018723&gclid=Cj0KCQjwoqDtBRD-ARIsAL4pviBfhc6YMndclAxMoGtCIEoFDCbHDKmyKuAtpKPuNe-TXSPZXvDYceAaAm3JEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) from her forehead to her face. She flips through the notes on her lap, “’I need you to tell James I need him. That he has to forgive me.’ Did you say that?”

“You know if I wanted to rehash that whole stupid conversation, I’d just go back to Dr. Houston.”

“Then why were you skipping her sessions?”

“I already fucking told you why! Are you not listening?!”

“Captain Rogers. Take a breath please. Calm down.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, alright? With that tone. I’m not a goddamn child.”

“I know that. I’m sorry.”

She does genuinely look apologetic. Which convinces Steve to take her advice. He takes a calming breath, staring out the large, arch cell window. She has a nice view of Manhattan from her office that he wishes he could appreciate. But he’s seen so many skyline views of the city— from the Tower, S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, Tony’s house, the rooftop of his apartment— that’s it’s grown old on him. The romanticism of it is gone.

“Your friends are worried about you,” Dr. Santiago says, interrupting the quiet he was enjoying. “They’re scared for you.”

“I’m fine.”

“They don’t think so. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t think so. Why are they wrong,” she asks

“Nat and Sam are very protective of me. They overreact sometimes.”

“Do you think forcing you into anger management is an overreaction?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“So, you don’t believe you belong here?”

Steve rolls his eyes. He thought his feelings were clear: “No.”

“Why would Mr. Wilson and Ms. Romanov overreact?”

“What?”

“What are your friends overreacting to? Why do you think they believe you needed to attend anger management?”

Steve knows what she wants. And he’s not going to give it to her so easily. “You mean it’s not written down in your notes?”

She smiles at him. It’s a knowing smile; she’s ignoring his sarcasm but fully aware of it. “I’d like to hear you tell me your thoughts.”

Steve shrugs.

“Really,” she asks. She waits a moment, hoping he says something, or elaborates, but he remains steadfast in his defiant silence. “You threw a man off a building. Captain Rogers.”

“Violence is a part of the job,” he says dismissively.

“Not this particular job. From what I’ve read in the debriefing report. Seems you’ve been overworking yourself and using excessive force when on assignment as of late.”

“Again: sometimes it’s a part of the job,” he stresses with irritation.

“The key word being: ‘sometimes’.”

“Christ,” Steve grumbles, rubbing his temples. He feels a stress headache coming on… “No one who’s ever ended up on the other side of my fists is a person worth losing sleep over.”

“There’s no doubt you deal with a lot of bad people. But from what I’ve been able to read in a few case files, you’ve always tried to at least debilitate henchmen, and apprehend supervillains, instead of killing them.”

“The key word being: ‘tried’. Doesn’t always work out that way.”

“What about the man you threw off the building? Did you try to debilitate him? Or apprehend him first?”

Steve bolts upright from his bored slouch on the sofa. “Are you shitting me? Are you sitting across from me right now asking about the lack of due process for a toady that worked under M.O.D.O.K? That big-headed freak was trying to mind control the citizens of this planet into being his drones and you want to know why I didn’t take my time in bringing his [sidekick](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egghead_\(Marvel_Comics\)) in for questioning? How about I didn’t fucking need to? He answered what I needed answered.”

“Before you pushed him off the [Shanghai Tower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shanghai_Tower).”

Steve chuckles wryly. He really does find this whole thing utterly ridiculous. “You know, Hydra, takes cyanide tablets when they’re caught. Not my fault M.O.D.O.K’s wingman wasn’t smart enough to do so when I got ahold of him.”

She sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. Like a mother at the end of her rope. She tosses her notes onto the coffee table between them and her glasses on top. “I’m going to level with you, Captain Rogers.”

“So, we’re done with the patronizing tone?”

“This appointment was for me to assess if you’re emotionally and mentally fit to return to the field. I was asked by my friend, Nick Fury, to talk to you and determine if being an Avenger is something that is vital to your being, or detrimental to your growth and adjustment.” Steve’s blood runs cold. A clammy sweat is on the way as he stares at her with a gaping mouth. “Glad I have your wholehearted attention now.”

“…I’m…sorry.”

And he is. He’s been rude and sullen the entire time, brought about by his stubbornness in being told he _had_ to come to Dr. Santiago’s office for anger management. He had no idea it was to evaluate if he were fit enough to continue being an Avenger.

“Captain Rogers. There is not a soul on this Earth that could possibly understand all you’ve been through. And you’ve done so with an enormous amount of resilience and dignity that one would never expect from another human being. It’s admirable. Yet, heartbreaking. I imagine you were very angry when you awoke in 2012. And from what I understand, you’ve taken great leaps into healing yourself, moving away from that anger and sadness. But I see a man that’s reverting back into those feelings.”

“That’s untrue.”

“You may no longer feel subconsciously suicidal, but I think there’s definitely a rage in you that is slowly boiling to the surface.”

Steve wants to call her a liar. But he can’t. His mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes sting with tears.

“It must be very hard to lose two Alphas in such a short period of time,” she says. Steve wants to storm out, knowing the direction this conversation is heading, but his body feels like wet cement; heavy and sunken. “Especially one you blame yourself for losing.”

Nausea always hits him rough when he allows his mind to wander to the day James broke up with him. His words clogging up his head and making bile churn in his stomach.

He’s failed at things before. But not with something he’s wanted as bad as James.

“Break ups can shatter our world sometimes. They feel like they’ll ruin us. And sometimes they do… Which is why I’m recommending to Nick that you be put on a 90 day leave from The Avengers.”

“Absolutely not.”

“This isn’t your decision, Captain Rogers.”

“I am the leader of my team. I have to be with them.”

“And what good are you to them in your current state? They obviously see that something is wrong with you and that you need help. Your team is telling you to be better. Get better. Because your leadership is necessary. And a break, to explore and acknowledge your emotions will do that.”

His heart is pounding; he can hear it in his ears. It beats against his chest, though threatening to break free of his chest. His left hand shakes. He’s on the verge of a panic attack. His fourth one since Peggy’s wake. “This is all I have left. You can’t take it away from me,” he says, voice shaky. “Please.”

“It’s only temporary, Captain Rogers.”

But it feels permanent. The stress headache he wanted to avoid a moment ago throbs behind his eyes now. Because Steve Rogers without a fight? He can’t picture it, let alone conceive it.

“What the hell am I supposed to do if I’m not Captain America?”

“That’s a good question, isn’t it?” She takes his hand into hers. “And now’s a good time to find out.”

* * *

Steve hasn’t left his bed in three weeks except to use the bathroom and grab food from the kitchen. The first few days were because his heat hit hard and fast, but since then he hasn’t budged. He hasn’t gone for a run, visited Peggy’s grave, or showered since his heat ended. Instead, he’s been binge-watching TV shows, doing crossword puzzles on his tablet and scrolling through Twitter.

Pepper’s called twice today. He hasn’t answered but listened to her voicemails. She wants him to meet with a lawyer recommended to her for his sexual harassment suit against Rumlow. He wants to call her back, to go to the meeting, but there’s a weight on him. It’s pulling him down and making everything feel heavy. Everything feels like that lately. Everything feels heavy and too much. Except his bed. His bed feels familiar. And safe.

He’s going through pictures of James on his phone. He misses the other man’s hands and mouth on his body. His sexy voice whispering filthy things in his ear to make him come. He misses how James held him close, giving him exactly what his body needed.

He’s spent his last 5 heats alone. The first one, in Montana, came and went in a flash, but the one in October, right after James broke up with him, was painful and left him severely exhausted and dehydrated. Betty had him admitted to the Tower hospital for two nights, until he got his strength back, then suggested he move back into the Tower for quicker support if he were to continue riding out his heats by himself. She brought him two toys to help: a [massager](https://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/anal-sex-toys/prostate-toys/sp-verve-vibrating-prostate-massager-9050.aspx#CategoryID=1004), and [blow job simulator](https://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/male-masturbators/blow-job-simulators/sp-all-in-stroker-90675.aspx?CategoryID=1490) he broke three days ago.

Though needed, and a bit fun, they still weren’t the fingers and mouth he wanted…

Steve finds the picture he took of James sleeping naked in bed; fluffy bedhead, slightly open, red mouth, with just a hint of his bare hip poking out from the bedsheet slipping from his taut body.

Steve licks his slips and let’s his hand slip into his underwear. He strokes his cock, slow and leisurely, remembering the hand job James gave him when he woke up, right after he took the picture he’s oogling.

_“Captain Rogers.”_

“Goddamnit,” Steve grumbles. “Yes, Jarvis.”

_“I apologize, sir, for interrupting your self-abuse.”_ Steve rolls his eyes. Tony’s omniscient A.I. knew he was masturbating. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t so annoyed. _“But it seems Ms. Romanov is attempting to override your privacy settings again.”_

“Tell her to ‘fuck off’ please.”

_“In those words, Captain Rogers?”_

“Yes.”

_“Very well.”_

Steve waits a moment, hand still on his dick, knowing Natasha will have something to say in response…

_“Ms. Romanov said ‘no’, sir. And that she will not leave your floor until she can speak with you.”_

“Is it an emergency?”

_“No, sir, I don’t believe so.”_

“Then she can have fun sleeping outside my door. I don’t want to be bothered.”

_“Understood, sir.”_

After a few moments of silence, Steve returns to pulling on his cock, with thoughts of James behind his closed eyes… His phone vibrates in quick succession in his hand, disrupting him again:

**NATASHA**: If you don’t want to talk to me, fine.

**NATASHA**: But please got to your therapy sessions.

**NATASHA**: Fury needs to see that you’re trying to address your issues if he’s to let you back on the team.

**NATASHA**: I’ve got no one to side-eye with when Tony makes his stupid jokes.

**NATASHA**: I miss you. We all do.

**NATASHA**: I know you’re hurting, but please try.

**NATASHA**: Don’t give up like this.

Steve sits up. He throws his phone against the wall, smashing it into pieces and causing a dent in the drywall.

Fuck her.

He hates that. When she does this. He hates that she always knows exactly what to say to push him where he needs to go. You want Steve Rogers to fight like hell? Tell him he can’t do something. Or call him a quitter.

_“Is everything alright, Captain Rogers?”_

Tears build in Steve’s eyes. He’s so sick of crying. “Honestly? No.”

_“Would you like help with something, Captain Rogers?”_

“I’d like help with everything.”

_“Could you be more specific, sir?”_

Steve laughs. He and Jarvis are having two different conversations. “I’d like to be less angry. I was happy for a while. I want that back.”

_“what was it that made you happy, sir?”_

Steve brings his knees up, resting his forehead on them. “…A boy. A boy made me happy.”

_“Do you know the name of the boy? Perhaps I can find him for you.”_

“No! No. No, thank you, Jarvis.”

_“Very well. Perhaps a joke will make you happy, Captain Rogers? Mark Twain is quoted as saying, ‘Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand’.”_

Steve flops back down. “Sure. Why not?”

_“What do you call a shoe made out of a banana?”_

Of all the jokes, in all the world… He can’t help the grin that breaks out onto his face. It feels like years since he’s smiled…

_“Would you like for me to repeat the setup, Captain Rogers?”_

“A slipper. A shoe made out of a banana is called ‘a slipper’.”

∞∞∞

Steve walks into the common room freshly showered, shaved, and in comfortable, clean clothes. Everyone stops eating to stare at him. “What are you all doing here,” he asks.

“…You moved back into the Tower. So, we did, too,” Bruce tells him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“We wanted to be here for you, big guy,” Tony says.

“You should be home with Pepper and the kids.”

“I am. But I’m here, too.” Tony pushes an inviting chair toward Steve. “You having lunch with us today? Sam cooked so it’s good.” Sam pats himself on the back. It makes Steve smile a little. “Come have [tofu and sweet potatoes](https://www.ambitiouskitchen.com/vegan-macadamia-coconut-tofu-bowls/) with us.”

Steve takes the seat offered to him between Tony and Natasha. She pecks his cheek. Clint passes him a serving dish with a wink. It makes Steve want to cry; this isn’t the life he wanted, and lately he hates that it’s his to survive, but there’s good people in it that make it worth living. He subtly wipes a tear from his eye.

Tony pats his shoulder. “One day at a time. That’s how we’ll do this,” he whispers to him.

Steve smiles. It’s the very thing he said to Tony, years ago, when the billionaire relapsed for the second time. Platitudes aren’t really Tony’s thing, but that day they were, they helped.

And they’ll help Steve, too. He hopes.

* * *

Steve knocks lightly on the door. He clears his throat when Dr. Houston’s attention draws to him.

“Steve.”

“I’m… I’m sorry that I missed some of our sessions.”

“I think the point is you’re here now. Sit. Please.”

Steve takes a seat. She crosses the room to close her office door, then sits in the armchair adjacent to him.

“How are you,” she asks.

“Terrible.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, my boyfriend broke up with me when I disappeared on him after my ex died. Then I demanded my therapist guilt him into taking me back. When she refused, I called her names and stormed out. Then I decided to bury myself in my work, but that went badly; threw a guy off a building when I didn’t need to. After that, I got sent to anger management. I screwed that up so bad I was forced into taking leave from The Avengers. And I’ve been a mess since. You?”

“I got a cat.”

Steve’s face cracks into the widest smile at her levity. “More of a dog person myself.”

“Steve. It’s good to see you.”

“You, too, Dr. Houston.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it :)
> 
> I know this chapter is short, but the next one is very long. And worth it ;)
> 
> This chapter takes place during November/December 2022


	12. Paper Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers' road to recovery is paved with good intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Two more chapters to go... :O

* * *

[Sam](https://www.essence.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/images/2014/04/14/484676425.jpg) bursts into Natasha’s bedroom holding three different ties. “Which one,” he asks, panicked.

“Sam, Jesus Christ, just pick one,” Natasha snaps from the walk-in closet.

“No tie,” Steve tells him. “But a handkerchief would look nice.”

“I don’t have a handkerchief!”

“I’ve got one. And it’ll look nice with the suit. I’ll go get it from my room.”

Sam makes prayer hands. “Bless you.”

Sam is taking Maria to a nice, Italian restaurant called [L’Artusi](https://www.lartusi.com/), on Tony’s recommendation (and clout). He and Steve scrutinized pictures of it online, and scoured their menu, trying to determine if it was indeed the right place for Sam to ask Maria to move in with him. After about an hour of Sam’s indecisiveness, they determined it was, and that Valentine’s Day was the perfect day to do it.

“Where the hell is that stupid dress,” Natasha shouts. She’s not bothering to hide how nervous she is. Steve knows it’s only because he and Sam are present, therefore, her guard is down. She’s been snappy and just as dithering as Sam for the last three hours. Steve finds the whole thing comical.

“Give me a sec, Sam.” He hurries into [Natasha’s closet](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102398039331/?nic=1a). There’s clothes and shoes tossed everywhere. And Natasha wearing an [oatmeal face mask](https://www.ulta.com/honey-oatmeal-nourish-glow-face-mask?productId=pimprod2007942&sku=2553853&cmpid=PS_Non!google!Product_Listing_Ads&cagpspn=pla&CATCI=pla-295703662999&CAAGID=80241971458&CAWELAID=330000200001802090&CATARGETID=330000200001847006&CADevice=c&gclid=Cj0KCQjwrrXtBRCKARIsAMbU6bENJRxBAEXZGeKP_oAxPf1K1QFCwDgrU6si6V_ZAxEtFiNDhd1ngGUaAv5VEALw_wcB), rummaging through her things like a racoon through a garbage bin. “Can I help?”

“[Green dress](https://hips.hearstapps.com/elleuk.cdnds.net/15/37/2048x2730/2048x2730-844232-29f9-11e6-8f6b-2dddc0718fe2-assets-elleuk-com-gallery-16485-1349454487-scarlett-johansson-jpg.jpg). Sheer neckline. Find it.”

“Uh, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you donated it to Goodwill last year.”

“What? No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have.”

“You did. You let Lila wear it to her school dance and she got a grease stain on it and tore the hem, so you donated it.”

“NO!”

She’s been seeing [Matt Murdock](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Daredevil), Steve’s lawyer, for the last month and a half; a record in longevity for the superhero. She won’t admit aloud if she likes him, but Steve knows she’s definitely scribbled the words down in the journal her therapist told her to keep.

She’s never had a Valentine and it’s her first time spending the holiday with another person. She’s excited and scared and Steve’s been holding her hand about it since Matt asked her to go to dinner with him two weeks ago.

“Okay, okay, okay. What about the [black dress](https://www.thesun.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/1489867.main_image.jpg?strip=all)? The one with the sparkles on it? That’s a nice dress.”

“It’s black! I can’t wear black to dinner tonight. I wear black all the time.”

“But with your hair longer and blonde now, I think it’ll be really pretty. Especially given that it…enhances…certain…features…on you.”

Even in the midst of being rattled, she still manages to give him a teasing look as his cheeks feel warm. “You talking about my boobs, Rogers?”

“I’ve noticed your…assets…look nice in that particular dress.”

“’My assets’, good lord, Steve,” she giggles. She pulls the black dress from the hanger. “When Steve Rogers takes notice of your ‘assets’, I guess you got to appreciate the advice.”

_“Steve,”_ Sam shouts from the bedroom.

“Go get the birdman his handkerchief. Then come back and help me pick out shoes.”

Steve pecks her cheek and goes to help his other best friend.

∞∞∞

Steve wipes the tears falling from his eyes and turns off the television. He knew the movie was a weepie, but he had no idea it’d touch him, hit as close to home as it has.

He grabs his phone and shoots off a quick text to Laura Barton:

**STEVE**: Watched [Waterloo Bridge](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waterloo_Bridge_\(1940_film\)). Don’t know if I should thank you for the recommendation or vow never to speak to you again. LOL

He’s not expecting her to reply. He knows Clint’s spent all year planning “the perfect Valentine’s Day” for her; a trip to [Rome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEJx0CYrDHk) she’s been dying to take but was postponed when they discovered she was pregnant with Nate. So, she’s more than likely…engaged.

Steve cleans up the empty bowl of popcorn he was munching on, and bottle of generic root beer. He checks the time on the stove. It’s only 9:43pm. Still an early night.

He’s not particularly in the mood to draw or watch more lyrical romance movies. He’s watched enough documentaries to where he thinks he could probably make his own. He’s finished all of his Stephen King paperbacks and has no intention of continuing with the [horrible supernatural series](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Shadowhunter_Chronicles) Clint told him to read. He deleted all of his social media. So, mindlessly scrolling through his timelines, feeds, and dashboards isn’t something he can do.

He can’t play anymore solitaire. He’ll punch a hole into a wall if he has to.

He could go for a quick walk. Just to get some fresh air and stop at the bakery five blocks from the Tower. They’re open late and make the best [cranberry orange muffins](https://www.christinascucina.com/homemade-perfect-cranberry-and-orange/). But that would mean having to go outside, bundled up, into the cold February night, and pass by couples wrapped in each other’s arms on the most romantic of days. So, no.

He is, however, in need of some fresh air. He hasn’t been out all day.

Steve grabs the throw blanket on the sofa and wraps it around his shoulders. He unlocks the sliding doors and steps out onto the balcony. He inhales deep, the crisp, winter air and lets his toes stretch out onto the cold cement floor. He wishes it would snow. Not a single flurry at all this year. Not even on Christmas.

The Empire State Building is lit up in colors of red and pink with a heart visible from space.

Steve wonders how many marriage proposals happen are happening up there tonight…

He wouldn’t like such a cliché proposal. He’d want something romantic but different. Like a crossword puzzle or a scavenger hunt. Not that a candlelit dinner isn’t nice, but he wants it to feel tailored to them. Special. He wants James to really make it—

Steve shakes his head. He closes his eyes and wills himself not to cry at his own embarrassment. He’s forgotten a few times today that he and James aren’t together anymore; brief moments where his mind slips up and drifts into territory it should no longer occupy. He pushes away his thoughts of James in favor of racking his brain on how to cure his boredom.

“Jarvis.”

_“Yes, Captain Rogers.”_

“What was the art you suggested I try last week?”

_“Origami, sir. The Japanese art form of folding paper.”_

Sounds uniquely boring to Steve, but at this point he’ll try anything to keep his mind and hands busy.

“Could you teach it to me?”

_“Surely, Captain Rogers. There are several tutorial videos online that I’ll happy to guide you through.”_

“Let’s do it. I’ve got plenty of paper and a ton of time.”

Steve enters his [apartment floor](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/121949102397648967/?nic=1a) from the balcony and slides the doors closed. He whips the throw blanket off his shoulders and tosses it back onto the sofa. There’s a drawer of colorful kraft paper under three sketchpads at his [drafting table](https://www.wayfair.com/furniture/pdx/studio-designs-solid-wood-drafting-table-szt1192.html).

_“I’ve found a video that would be very helpful to a novice of origami such as yourself, Captain Rogers.”_ Jarvis turns on the TV and cues up the video: [Origami Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OwH9YlBSgQ).

“Fitting.”

_“I thought so, too, sir.”_

Steve grabs a handful of red paper. “Alright, Jarvis. Teach me.”

* * *

Steve stretches a bit, pushing against an empty park bench with his foot, into a lunge.

He can hear the close whispers of two women as they approach. He chances a glance in their direction as they jog by slowly. They’re both blonde and statuesque, like Barbie dolls in [high-end sportswear](https://style.fabletics.com/dms18246/?aid=%7BAdId%7D&bp=0&ccode=DSKWID_p38417658341&clabel=&code=115856&gclid=Cj0KCQjwrrXtBRCKARIsAMbU6bElEb-mSt8dyvBUcDuIcWRZ-GoSLEG_rrf0iO9HcxUxV_0oZkmQDIoaAoB1EALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds&keyword=+womens%20+sportswear&pcode=DSCID_71700000041122458&plabel=US_FL_NB_Active_Mod&scode=DSAGID_58700004576549662&slabel=women-sportswear%20-%20mod&subchannel=GOOGLE&utm_campaign=US_FL_NB_Active_Mod&utm_content=2for24&utm_medium=search_nonbranded&utm_source=google). He smiles politely at them as they pass him.

The one in pink stops and circles back to him. “Hi.”

“Um, hello.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to disrupt your jog, but are you Steve Rogers?”

“I might be.”

She smiles. A big toothy smile that reminds Steve of the women that compete in beauty pageants. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’s been in a few herself.

“Well, if you are, I was wondering if I could interest you in a cup of coffee.”

She’s an Alpha. He can tell. He’d be lying if he said she weren’t incredibly beautiful, and he weren’t flattered she recognized him in his knitted cap and puffy vest, boldly asking him on a coffee date. But he can’t. Not yet at least.

“That’s a tempting offer—”

“[Trish](https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Trish_Walker).”

“That’s a tempting offer, Patsy, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“You going to break a girl’s heart this early in the morning?”

He chuckles at her teasing. “Afraid so.”

“No harm, no foul. Got to shoot your shot if you stumble upon Captain America, right? You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“See you around, Steve Rogers,” she winks at him.

Steve watches her jog back to her waiting friend and smiles. Feels like ages since he’s been hit on.

∞∞∞

“She sounded confident.”

“She was. I’m pretty sure was an Alpha,” Steve says. He looks at the new African art in Dr. Houston’s office. They’re [fertility statues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Sx2bGHgcuE). He wants to pick them up, take a closer look, but he knows most fertility statues are cursed, and though he could never get pregnant himself, it still gives him pause to leave them be.

“Was she pretty,” Dr. Houston asks.

“Very.”

“But yet, you felt no need to take her up on her offer for a coffee date.”

“No. I am…nowhere near ready for that.”

“Why is that?”

Steve takes a seat on the sofa adjacent to the tufted chair Dr. Houston always sits in. “Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. Everyone was gone. They had dates. Even Nat.”

“Sam and Natasha missed out on your tradition. Did you feel resentful? Hurt?”

“A little. For a second,” Steve admits. “But then Nat looked so nervous and excited. It was cute. I like that she got to go out last night. And I like Matt. I think he’s good for her.”

“It’s nice that you were happy for your friends. But I’m guessing it still didn’t subside how lonely you felt.”

Steve picks at a loose thread on his cardigan. “No. It did not.”

“Were you thinking about James?”

“…I’m always thinking about James. That’s the problem.”

“Who said it’s a problem?”

“Me. I do. How the hell am I supposed to get over him if all I do is think about him?”

“You can’t erase him from your mind, Steve. And try as you might, you can’t push him and your feelings about him down into nothingness either. There isn’t anything wrong with missing him. You loved him. Of course you miss him.”

“I…still love him.”

“That’s fine, too. I don’t think anyone expects you to have fallen out of love with him by now. It’s okay that you’re not over him, or ready to move on with someone else. Not unless you’re acting out in destructive ways.”

“No, I’m not,” he assures her. “I deleted all my social media on New Year’s.”

Steve would spend hours going through James’ Instagram, debating with himself if he should like something or comment. Especially when Grace had the baby and James began posting again; pictures of him with his brand-new nephew. Steve melted at them. He wrestled for a long time if he should contact James online, but ultimately decided against it and made it a resolution to delete his accounts so he wouldn’t.

“Why does it bother you so much to miss him? Why do you want to get over him so badly?”

“…I don’t want to discuss that.”

He can’t bear to say it aloud. Speaking it into existence feels too much like betrayal.

“At some point we’re going to have to.”

“I know. Just not now. Please.”

“I would never force you into a discussion you didn’t want to have.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“How has it been taking a break from The Avengers? You ready to go back,” she asks.

“I… No.”

“Well, that’s surprising.”

He’s just as surprised. He had argued until he was blue in the face to be kept on the team, and then spiraled into a depression when he was denied. But his 90-day punishment is ending soon, and he’s not so sure returning to the team is something he wants to do just yet if he’s cleared.

“I get bored sometimes. But not that often. I’ve been catching up on things I never had the time to do, or knew I wanted to learn. I taught myself origami.”

She smiles. “You’re enjoying not being Captain America.”

“It feels like I’ve been him forever. Like my whole life. It hasn’t, but it feels that way. But lately, on this leave, I’ve… It’s been nice, trying to find Steve Rogers again. You know what’s funny? For the first 25 years of my life, all I wanted was to be someone else, something bigger than myself. And I got my wish. Now, I just want to be Steve Rogers again. Am I an idiot?”

She laughs. “Yes. But so are the rest of us. Very few of us are satisfied with our lives and don’t yearn for what we think is more. Takes a while to realize how good you had it when you were too busy paying attention to the things you didn’t have.”

“I’ve been given countless chances at life. I don’t know how many more I’m going to get. I don’t want to waste the ones I have right now.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Take your time, Steve. It’s clear the world has survived without Captain America. And will continue to survive. We’ll let you know if we need you.”

* * *

Steve loves the [library](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_Public_Library). Any library really. He likes bookstores, too, but libraries are where he feels more comfortable. They’re deviations from consumerism and more focused on community. They make him feel like an ordinary citizen. Like the old Steve Rogers. Because the old Steve Rogers, skinny, sickly Steve Rogers, was always at the library. It’s where he hid from bullies he couldn’t outrun. Where he got to use as much free paper as he liked to draw, doodle, and sketch on. Libraries are where he discovered new worlds within the printed pages of books. Endless amounts of books it would take him twenty lifetimes to read.

And he figures since he’s been given two, why not take advantage.

Steve’s grabbing _The House of Spirits_ off the shelf and sitting it atop the three other books (_Tarzan and the Apes, Native Son, Dune_) in his arms when he hears a familiar voice whisper:

“Hi. I’m looking for _Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_. I can’t seem to find it in the fiction aisle,” Darcy asks on the other side of the tall bookshelf.

Steve peeks through the sliver of space atop the shelf of books at his eye level to see the librarian use her scanner to check for the book Darcy asked about.

She looks pretty. As usual. The front of her hair is up in two [Victory Rolls](https://www.google.com/search?q=Victory+Rolls&rlz=1C1KDEC_enUS836US836&oq=vi&aqs=chrome.0.69i59l2j69i60l4.1950j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8) while the back is out in soft waves. Her makeup is flawless, and her pale face is accentuated by her bright, red lipstick. She rarely wears pants, but she is today: tight jeans cuffed at her ankles with a gingham shirt tied at her bellybutton. There’s a pair of cat-eye glasses on her face that Steve wants to tell her looks great on her.

But instead he slips away quietly, avoiding her direction, and making his way to the front desk. He drops his books onto the counter and tugs his baseball cap low, shielding his eyes.

He knows he’s being ridiculous. Darcy’s always been a good friend to him. She even called him after finding out he and James broke up. But Steve was too much of a heartbroken coward to pick up or return her call. So, he ignored it and assumed breaking up with James, meant breaking up with Darcy, too.

Which is why he’s currently grabbing his books and running out the entrance.

He knows she didn’t see him, but it doesn’t stop him from apologizing to her in his head.

* * *

Sam cracks open a beer and flops down on the sofa. He slides down comfortably, takes his phone out of his pocket, and thumbs through one of his many social media accounts.

Steve doesn’t usually like when people are around while he paints, but Sam is always quiet unless spoken to, and Steve actually doesn’t mind the company right now.

“Any particular reason why you’re here and not at home spending the day with your girlfriend?”

“[Bagheera](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bagheera) is there,” Sam replies.

“She’ll always be there, Sam. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

“I would if she weren’t so evil.”

Steve chuckles. “I doubt she’s evil. Just has to get used to you. Plus, your place is new to her. She has to adjust.”

“She’s not going to adjust. She doesn’t want to adjust. She wants to be a dick.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard. Let her come to you. Cats are finicky like that. You got to act like you don’t need them, so they can show you how much you do.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “That’s so manipulative. How do you not find that evil?”

Sam it seems forgot that with Maria moving in with him, that her cat would, too. The all-black Abyssinian hasn’t taken too happily to the move. According to The Falcon, she’s thus far scratched up his curtains, coughed up hair balls in his shoes, knocked over (and broke) a high school football trophy he won, and jumped atop the kitchen counter, making off with the bacon he cooked for himself.

“That’s just how they are. You can’t avoid being at home just because you don’t like [Maria’s cat](https://wfpk.org/wp-content/uploads/black-cat-names.jpg).”

“I believe I’m currently proving you wrong, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve shakes his head at him with a smile. He doesn’t want to, but he finds it amusing that his friend is so annoyed with his girlfriend’s cat that he’d (literally) rather watch paint dry than be at home.

Distracted, Steve misses the colors used for the mountain. He grabs the remote and rewinds the video back a few seconds. He watches the gentle man with the fuzzy afro blend two colors for a deep purple onto his painting knife. Steve does the same with the paint on his own palette and follows the directions in creating the “happy, little mountain.”

Steve had absolutely no idea who Bob Ross was but found him nothing short of fascinating when Sam sent him videos of him painting, along with a short documentary about the kind, soft-spoken man. He immediately went to the art supply store and stocked up on new paints and a new easel so he could follow along with Bob Ross as he created his beautifully scenic landscapes.

“What’s this one called,” Sam asks. He’s lying down with his head propped up on all of Steve’s throw pillows. The blond Avenger knows it’s only be a matter of time before Sam’s knocked out.

“’[Arctic Beauty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQ-RTZCOQn0)’,” Steve answers.

Sam yawns. “Does drawing snowscapes help?”

“It does actually.” Steve’s never told anyone but Sam and Dr. Houston that he was alive, conscious, for a long time when he crashed his plane. His body was immovable, but his mind kept going, completely aware. Like sleep paralysis. The serum fought hard to keep him stable for as long as it could. That’s it’s job. But Steve was in mental agony for days. He was terrified and began hallucinating. It wasn’t until his heartbeat felt slow and weak that he was finally able to shutdown his frantic thoughts and wait patiently for death to relieve him. “But I think that’s mainly Bob Ross putting me at ease.”

“Told you you’d like him.”

“Want to hear something weird? I’ve been a little disappointed it hasn’t snowed yet. I loved it as a kid. Even though winter’s when I’d get sick the most, the snow just made everything look so clean and perfect. And Christmas at my house was always a big deal…until it wasn’t. Until it was just me…”

Sam snores loudly. Steve turns to find his friend fast asleep on his couch, arms crossed over his chest. He smiles.

Steve pauses the video, getting paint on the remote. He sets down his palette and brush to cross the short distance to the couch. He unfolds the throw blanket and gently lays it across Sam’s body. “But now, I have you guys. Even when you fall asleep in the middle of me pouring my heart out.”

Steve plays his Bob Ross video again and picks up his palette, returning to his easel to make evening shadows on snowcapped mountains.

* * *

Steve saw it in the window as he passed by and bought it without the slightest bit of hesitation. He went back to the Tower and searched behind his desk for the leftover wrapping paper he left there.

The saleswoman was nice enough to place the little tchotchke in a small gift box with blue crinkle paper. It’s not a particularly nice, or well-crafted figurine, but it caught Steve’s eye and instantly reminded him of the other man. So, he walked into the bauble shop, asked for a closer look at “the [wolf](https://www.amazon.com/StealStreet-SS-G-54272-Howling-Siting-Figurine/dp/B00AEUDMCO) in the window,” then walked out with it.

He grabs the [woodland holiday paper](https://www.papermart.com/p/animal-christmas-wrapping-paper/78223?searchitemnumber=42WMA0764&origin=froogle&utm_source=google&utm_medium=froogle&utm_campaign=product&campaignid=173226304&matchtype=&keyword=&gclid=Cj0KCQjw0brtBRDOARIsANMDykYiRK89FHREXV4bwBG_5Tkgue097cfbYBEwm07vOPEeqSEmCQdBKO4aAodEEALw_wcB) he used for everyone’s gifts this past Christmas and a roll of Scotch Tape. He lies the box in the center of the strip he peels off the roll. He has only just enough for his gift. It’s far from Christmas but it’s the only wrapping paper he has on hand, having not the foresight to grab some on the way home. He momentarily regrets not following Natasha’s lead in buying simple brown paper last year, but it’s a moot feeling.

He wraps the present expertly, just like how his ma taught him, with perfect creases and sharp edges. He remembers the card he bought, too, and takes it out of the plastic drugstore bag he tossed atop his desk. It’s a simple card with colorful, confetti block letters, and blank inside. He finds the expensive [fountain pen](https://www.jetpens.com/Retro-51-Tornado-Fountain-Pen-Lincoln-EXT-Medium-Nib/pd/11917?gclid=CjwKCAjw9L_tBRBXEiwAOWVVCc5qBl7_GQaYBHJv_DfjDzN9H-3KN8jPJrbQcS2ZDktPaTXzuCKezRoCk3QQAvD_BwE) Bruce bought him and writes solely:

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMES! ** **LOVE, STEVE**

He’ll be thirty-six next week.

He stuffs the card into the envelope. His hand makes quick work of drawing two wolves cuddled together in a bottom corner of the envelope. Crooked little hearts float above their heads.

Steve’s not adept at calligraphy but it is an art and the nuns at school made sure his cursive was impeccable. Therefore, his hand makes expert loops as it spells out James’ name in the center of the envelope. Steve smiles at the clean handwriting and sweet doodle, imagining the smile on James’ face if Steve could give it to him.

He tapes the card to the gift and puts it in the bottom drawer of his desk. Along with the [watch](https://www.etsy.com/listing/294000995/wood-watch-engraved-wooden-watch-for-him?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=&ref=sr_gallery-1-18&frs=1) he bought him for Valentine’s Day, and the [mechanical puzzle box](https://ugearsmodels.com/treasure-box.html) he bought him for Christmas.

Dr. Houston said that it’s okay he misses him. But he doubts she’d find it reasonable that he buys his ex-boyfriend gifts he hides in his desk.

Which is exactly why he plans to never mention it to her.

* * *

Steve sits between Matt and Pepper. On the other side of the table sits Rumlow with his lawyer, an overweight, balding man in a rumpled suit that gives the impression he chases ambulances in order to find clients. Steve wishes he could be surprised, but he isn’t.

“Captain Rogers, can you explain in your own words the nature of your relationship with Mr. Rumlow,” Brock’s lawyer asks.

“We worked together. I was his boss.”

“And is it true that you and Mr. Rumlow also had an intimate relationship?”

“Briefly, yes. He asked me on a date in July of 2021. I had not given Mr. Rumlow a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ at the time. We were interrupted and called to action.”

“When did your relationship with Mr. Rumlow become intimate?”

“Early February of last year. We went on one date that ended badly.” Steve catches Brock rolling his eyes. “Which I decided was also our first and last after Mr. Rumlow’s indecent behavior.”

Brock angrily whispers to his lawyer.

“What happened on the date, Captain Rogers?”

“The date started out nicely, so I asked Mr. Rumlow to come back to my apartment with me. He did, accepting my invitation, and we spent the next portion of our evening kissing on my couch. At that time, Mr. Rumlow had attempted an intimate gesture with me that made me uncomfortable. I asked him not to stop, he didn’t, so I pushed him to the floor. We argued. He called me a ‘tease’ and said anything he dished out I should be able to take given that I’m a superhero.”

“Your Honor, he’s painting me as some sort of rapist,” Rumlow objects.

“You’re pretty much on the cusp of it, Brock,” Steve snaps.

Rumlow’s lawyer tries to calm him down. Matt squeezes Steve’s shoulder, needing him to do the same.

“Is there a problem, Mr.Perrotta,” the judge asks. “Control your client, please, because I will not have outbursts like that.”

Rumlow shuts his trap but looks very irritated by having to.

“Continue, Captain Rogers.”

“I no longer wanted to argue with Mr. Rumlow about the incident, so I asked him to go. And made it explicitly clear to him that our relationship was strictly professional from there on out.”

“What was the gesture?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor?”

“You said you asked Mr. Rumlow to stop an intimate gesture he wanted to perform, leading to you to quarrel. What was the gesture?”

“Your Honor,” Matt interjects. “I would like it restated that these proceedings are indeed confidential and that any personal and/or private information my client reveals will be kept as such amongst parties within this room.”

“Once again, let the record show _Rogers v. Rumlow_ is a classified meeting and that all parties involved consent to information acquired during such are to remain undisclosed. A violation of these rules will result in a fine of no less than $75,000 and up to, but not excluding, a maximum sentence of 2 years at [Metropolitan Correction Center](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metropolitan_Correctional_Center,_New_York).”

Matt gives Steve a reassuring nod. Steve knows it may be an ignorant thought, but he’s always curious as to how the blind man manages to know, to see without seeing, when it comes to the reactions and actions of others…

He gets out of his head quick enough to answer the judge’s initial question. “At the time, Mr. Rumlow was under the impression that I had an Alpha designation… When in fact, I was born an Omega. He attempted to grip my neck and kiss me there, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“Captain Rogers, during this time, were you and Mr. Rumlow engaged in penetrative intercourse?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Oral sex?”

“No, Your Honor. We were only kissing. Mr. Rumlow did not respect my wishes, so I kicked him out of my apartment. That was the last time I had interacted with Mr. Rumlow in a manner that was not professional.”

“Then how did Mr. Rumlow get the impression to join you in the shower on…” She checks her notes. “…the 21st of June 2022 of last year.”

Steve stares daggers at the other man. “Once, accidentally discovering I’m an Omega, Mr. Rumlow was under the _false_ impression that my reluctance to enter a relationship with him was merely a cat-and-mouse game that I was playing with him. He blamed my supposed actions on Omega stereotypes. When in fact, Mr. Rumlow repulses me.”

“You smug son-of-a-bitch,” Rumlow growls.

“What did I say about disruptions, gentlemen,” the judge intervenes.

“I started seeing a man after Mr. Rumlow’s initial attempt at a date was casted aside. The date we went on took place when said man and I were unofficial.”

“Do we have corroboration from your boyfriend, Captain Rogers?”

Steve readies to tell the judge ‘no’ and that James is no longer his boyfriend when Matt jumps in—

Matt pulls a blue folder from his briefcase. “We have a witness statement from Special Agent James Buchanan Barnes, formally known as [Commanding Officer Sgt. Barnes](https://work.chron.com/can-fbi-agent-hold-military-rank-27471.html). In his statement, Special Agent Barnes attests he and Captain Rogers were in an intimate and exclusive relationship from mid-February 2022 of last year to mid-September 2022 of last year. Spanning a total of 7 months. Special Agent Barnes also bears witness in his testimony to several volatile, sexual situations involving Mr. Rumlow and Omega staff at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters when both men were employees of the agency. I also have written testimony from Agent Sharon Carter of S.H.I.E.L.D of Mr. Rumlow’s indecent behavior, along with a petition from over a hundred staff members that he not be permitted to return to S.H.I.E.L.D as an employee.”

Pepper tries to contain her smile and winks at Steve.

Steve would wink back at her if he weren’t so floored by the trick up she and Matt’s sleeve. He’s also rendered speechless by Matt having apparently talked to James, getting him to write a statement for his case.

“This is bullshit,” Rumlow shouts, red-faced and spitting. He points at Steve. “This little cocktease lied to me, lead me on, then turned on me when I acted on his advances.”

Steve wants to shout him down, then roundhouse kick him out the window, but he remains seated, gripping the arms of his chair.

“Mr. Rumlow, what ‘signal’ did Captain Rogers give you for you to believe he wanted you to join him in his private shower,” the judge asks. “Because we’ve all watched the surveillance tape of the two of you arguing outside the Operations Room of S.H.I.E.L.D. Then days later, when returning to New York after a mission, Captain Rogers is having security escort your unconscious body from the building. It seems to me that your relationship was contentious, not misleading.”

“That wasn’t an argument, as my client so stated previously,” Mr. Perrotta chimes in. “He has stated that it was a discussion of the fact that Captain Rogers had inadvertently revealed himself to be an Omega after years of lying about his designation publicly. As so corroborated by the plaintiff.”

“My client presented himself as an Alpha only because of the stigmatism surrounding his true designation, and for fear of discrimination and bigotry that he unfortunately had to endure during his formative years,” Matt states.

Pepper grabs Steve’s hand, holding it in hers. She gives it a little squeeze. He squeezes back.

“After entering a relationship with Agent Barnes, he obtained the courage necessary to live his life as his true designation. Mr. Rumlow mistakenly took Captain Rogers’ biological progression—his abandoning of scent blockers and suppressants— as some sort of odd, passive-aggressive mating call to his own Alpha genetics. An unenlightened notion harking back to the sexually hostile mentality Captain Rogers’ unfortunately had to suffer during the 1940s. Hence, why he hid his true designation after awaking in the 21st century.”

Matt…is such a good lawyer.

“The truth is, Your Honor, my client did not lead Mr. Rumlow on, or send him any ‘signals’. Mr. Rumlow profoundly misinterpreted Captain Rogers’ previous actions— in which he made clear that he was uninterested in him romantically—under the guise of antiquated, old school thinking about Omegas. Captain Rogers stopped taking his meds when he entered a relationship with Agent Barnes. It had nothing to do with Mr. Rumlow whatsoever. It is his fault and his fault alone he did not understand what was made so very clear to him.”

“And when did you clarify that with, Mr. Rumlow, Captain Rogers?”

“When he attempted to sexually assault me in the shower. I told him to get out, I told him he was wrong, and I told him I was with someone. When he didn’t listen, I defended myself,” Steve answers.

“I may have misunderstood previous actions as signs, but I totally got it when he invited me to shower with him when we were on the quinjet.”

“That’s a lie,” Steve snarls.

“His Omega brain is scrambled. He’s spent too long on those fucking meds.”

“I have proof, Mr. Rumlow is lying,” Matt states plainly.

Steve and Pepper’s heads turn. Steve chances a glance at Rumlow. He looks nervous...

“Captain Rogers is wholly unaware of my evidence, but I assure you that I can prove Mr. Rumlow is lying.”

“Bullshit,” Rumlow bluffs.

“I’d like to see this evidence,” the judge states.

“I am more than happy to present it…with Captain Rogers’ permission.”

Steve has to stop himself before nodding at a blind man. “Yes. You can show it.” Because even Steve is curious as to what it is Matt found.

“Captain Rogers as the leader of The Avengers is not only a patriotic symbol, but S.H.I.E.L.D’s most precious and expensive weapon. He is the number one prized possession of the agency. So necessary to S.H.I.E.L.D and other geopolitical institutions that I knew they’d be willing to violate even his privacy in order to protect him and ensure the safety of their…nationalistic commodity. For lack of better phrasing. Because though a supersoldier, he is prone to both injury and death.” Matt opens his briefcase and takes out a Stark Industries [tablet](https://www.apple.com/shop/buy-ipad/ipad-10-2/32gb-silver-wifi?afid=p238%7Cs4BFV5ReE-dc_mtid_1870765e38482_pcrid_339144239931_pgrid_71015123914_&cid=aos-us-kwgo-pla-iPad--slid---product-MW752LL/A). “Pepper.” Pepper takes it from him. “And in doing so, I have both visual and audio of Captain Rogers and Mr. Rumlow’s interaction in his private showers, dated June 14, 2022.”

“What?! S.H.I.L.E.D has been recording me in the bathroom?!”

“Oh, my God…” Pepper gasps.

Rumlow sidebars his lawyer for an angry moment.

“May I ask how Mr. Murdock obtained said video evidence,” Mr. Perrotta asks.

“…Evidence was given to me by a S.H.I.E.L.D employee,” Matt responds.

All the air is sucked out of the room and Steve’s heart drops into his gut. Because he knows exactly who gave Matt the video…

“Pepper, would you mind playing video file #000-528 please?”

“No!” Steve’s head whips around to Rumlow, looking oh, so scared. “…No. We don’t… We don’t n-need to do that.”

The judge eyes the former Strike leader. “Care to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Rumlow?”

“Your Honor, I’d like to speak with my client for a moment please.”

Rumlow and Mr. Perrotta sidebar again. This time in a distant corner of the room. Everyone waits on pins and needles for the longest 2 minutes of Steve’s life before they return to their chairs at the conference table.

“Cap-Captain Rogers…is right,” Rumlow starts. “He did not ask me to join him in his private showers. I, uh… I took it upon myself to do so. After discovering he was an Omega. He told me to get out, I said no, thinking I could persuade him to…you know. But he said no and told me he was fucking Barnes. I didn’t like that, because me and Barnes—we got history. So, I tried to shoot my shot again.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“That’s when he kicked me through the goddamn door.”

“A lot of time, energy, and money could have been saved had you simply owned up to your mistake months ago, Mr. Rumlow,” the judge scolds.

Rumlow shrugs, not knowing how else to respond.

“Mr. Rumlow is to pay Captain Rogers a fine of $250,000, complete 365 days of support group therapy for sex addicts, in which he will register as an Alpha predator for the duration of his treatment—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rumlow interjects.

“Would jail time suit you better, Mr. Rumlow?”

It wouldn’t. So, he keeps his trap shut. Steve almost wants to laugh at how quick he is to quiet, as to not seal his fate any worse than it is.

“Mr. Rumlow is also no longer allowed to seek employment with any security or law enforcement agencies contracted, or in connection to, the US government.”

“Your Honor, if I may, Captain Rogers would also find it suitable that Mr. Rumlow not be within 1,000 yards of him at all times.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brock grumbles under his breath.

“So be it.”

“And he wouldn’t mind if the fine Mr. Rumlow is tasked with paying were allocated to either the non-profits USO or [ACP](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Corporate_Partners).”

“This was never about money, Your Honor,” Steve tells her. “But if Mr. Rumlow is to be fined, I’d like the money to benefit people who need it more than me.”

All eyes fall on Brock:

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

He lost. Big time. And Steve knows he wants nothing more than to break out of this room and head somewhere for a drink to lick his wounds.

“Mr. Rumlow’s fine is to be earmarked to the ACP,” the judge orders. “There is one final issue I feel needs to be addressed: Captain Rogers, I know this was an ordeal for you, but with all due respect, I don’t believe you to be entirely without fault in the matter. As Mr. Rumlow’s superior you engaged in an, although brief but blatant, liaison with your subordinate. Had Mr. Rumlow not been an interested party, you could have put him and his job in a compromising position. Workplace relationships are hard to navigate. Therefore, sometimes, it’s best not to have them. I think you’d benefit greatly from 18 hours of workplace sexual harassment and sensitivity training as well.”

Steve had no idea he’d end up with even a fraction of the blame. But he sees the judge’s point. His embarrassment isn’t helped, however, by Brock’s cocky grin. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“In the matter of _Rogers v. Rumlow_,, docket #555-061381, I find this case dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day, folks.” The judge, stenographer, and armed security guard exit.

Rumlow and his crummy lawyer bolt from the room behind them. Brock spares Steve a narrow glance before pulling back the frosted glass doors and heading for the elevators.

“If I never see that man again, it’ll be too soon,” Steve says. “Thank you, Matt.”

“You were brilliant,” Pepper adds.

“You deserved to win, Steve. Pepper. May Steve and I have the room for a moment?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll be right outside.”

Pepper steps outside the doors to wait. The three of them are heading over to [Betty’s place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Z76MiQv0zg) for she and Bruce’s engagement party. Banner proposed (for the second time) over the holidays and they plan to marry at the end of this year. Steve was excited about the party, happy to gift them with the painting he created for them, but now wants to avoid any and all interactions with specific people he knows will be there.

“That wasn’t a bluff. There is a video of you and Brock in the shower.”

“I figured.”

“I know you’re upset by it, and you have every right to be, but… I promise you she meant no harm.”

“Doesn’t change how I feel.”

Matt nods. “I get that. Just thought I’d run friendly interference.”

“You’re a good guy, Matt.”

“You’re an even better one. Glad I got to help. Guys like Rumlow always need a lesson.” Matt grabs his briefcase and opens it. Steve hands him the tablet. He puts it in his briefcase and pulls out a walking stick. “Mind getting the door?”

Steve opens the door. Pepper is on the other side, talking on her phone, to what sounds like Tony.

“Thanks.”

Steve nods and follows him out.

∞∞∞

Steve’s stuffing his face with [Antipasto skewers](https://thesweetestoccasion.com/2016/10/antipasto-skewers-party-appetizers/) when Natasha hesitantly approaches him.

“…Hi.”

“Was I doing a poor job of avoiding you?”

“Depends. Did you want me to know that you were avoiding me?”

“So that’s a ‘yes’. I didn’t want to fight with you at Bruce and Betty’s engagement party.”

“Wouldn’t’ve been much of a fight. I don’t have a leg to stand on right now.”

“No. You fucking don’t.” Steve’s never swore at Natasha. He’s never had to before. But this goes beyond meddling in his love life. “I never thought I’d be this angry at you. About anything.”

Tears well in her eyes. “I know.”

“You and I need to have a serious talk about trust and boundaries.”

“…I know,” she says, slyly wiping away a tear.

She looks pretty even when she cries. But she cracked something between them, and he has to let her know how it makes him feel.

“Did Fury ask you to do it?”

“I suggested it. And he approved it.”

Steve wants to punch a hole in the wall and flip a table. He’s gripping the appetizer plate in his hand so hard it breaks down the middle. Natasha rescues the broken pieces, putting them on the buffet table, then grabs Steve’s wrist. She drags him to the half-bath down the hall from the kitchen. He cut his finger.

Natasha turns the faucet on and gently cleans Steve’s bloody finger. She dries his hand with a cocktail napkin, then finds a [First-Aid kit](https://www.redcross.org/store/deluxe-all-purpose-first-aid-kit/711442.html?gclid=Cj0KCQjwl8XtBRDAARIsAKfwtxA1fNFTgWubgjvlIO2aFSTMWv0_YE1gxD1FUvuFMaOj4LFXODBNq5MaAhACEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) under the sink. She disinfects his cut with an alcohol patch and wraps it in two Band-Aids.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

He leans against the wall. Natasha puts the seat down and sits on the toilet.

They’re quiet for a long while. They ignore the occasional knock on the door from a guest wanting to use the can. Steve can’t bring himself to look at her but feels Natasha’s eyes on him.

“I know it might not mean much right now, but… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Is our friendship real?”

“What? Yes, Steve. It’s the most real relationship I have.”

“Then why were you spying on me?”

“Because I was scared. I thought… I thought you were going to hurt yourself. Intentionally. I just wanted an eye on you when I couldn’t be there.”

“But my bathroom? Tony’s ‘Fortress of Surveillance’ is bad enough at the Tower, but you mean to tell me I don’t have a private moment to myself anywhere?”

“It was only at S.H.I.E.L.D, in your locker room, your office, and your gym. I’ve never bugged your place or put cameras there. By then you were going to therapy. We all were. And you had gotten better to the point where you had your own apartment, so I didn’t feel like I needed to watch you as much. Then Barnes happened. When you moved back into the Tower, I disconnected the feed at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“But you saved the video.”

“Just the stuff with Rumlow. I told Matt and I gave him the tape. In case you needed it for your lawsuit.”

“This is such a violation, Nat…”

She covers her mouth, stifling a sob. “I know. I’m sorry. So sorry. Please… Please don’t hate me.”

He could never hate her, but this isn’t easily forgiven. He’s going to be pissed, and suspicious, for a long time. And he hates knowing that.

Her phone rings loudly through her clutch purse, playing [Journey’s “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart);”](https://open.spotify.com/track/4ECNtOnqzxutZkXP4TE3n3?si=sFQBmU0NTFaMcCRwraiC-w) Tony’s doing. It’s their “Avengers Assemble” 911 ring.

There’s a loud bang on the door— “Nat, you and Rogers done watching YouTube videos on how to be lame at a party,” Tony wisecracks. “We got to go. Fury’s calling.”

Steve’s still on leave from the team. It’s the third mission he’ll be sitting out.“Go. We’ll talk when you get back.”

Natasha stands. She wipes her face with the back of her hands. He feels like he should hug her but can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, she nods and he steps aside for her to open the door.

* * *

It’s been 8 days since the other Avengers ran off to fight intergalactic Elves from realm to realm. On day 3 Steve went to the Tower to collect some clean clothes and his toothbrush. He stayed with the kids while their mothers went grocery shopping and grabbed clothes from home, too.

All of them have been at Betty’s place since The Avengers took off in the middle of her engagement party.

Steve’s never been within the ‘Collateral Damage Circle’ (he hates the name), but it’s been nice despite circumstances. So far, they’ve played charades, countless board games, read books and have acted a few of them out, watched movies, played music and danced, made silly videos, and eaten every meal together.

Steve’s currently lying on the floor in the living room, coloring with Morgan. Harley is fiddling with Betty’s acoustic guitar, trying to teach himself to play using YouTube. Cooper and Lila are reading, Nate is in his own imaginary world with his Hawkeye action figure, and Peter is doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he’s texting Wade.

Steve’s just about finished [coloring](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49v1FlgbeWM) in Ariel’s fin when there’s a frantic pounding on the front door. The kids jump.

“Stay put. Don’t move,” Steve tells them. “Morgan, what happens if I say ‘elderflower’,” he tests.

“We run out the back door as fast as we can,” she answers.

“Good.”

The pounding strikes up again and Steve tiptoes to the front door. He peeks out of the peephole and hurriedly opens the door.

“Oh, my fucking god…” James cries. He looks panicked and disheveled. Like he hasn’t slept in months. “Are you kidding me, Steve?!”

He doesn’t know what exactly should come out his mouth. He hasn’t seen James since they broke up and now here he is on Betty’s stoop, yelling at him. “James, I…”

James barges inside. “I could kill you if I weren’t so damn happy to see you. I was losing my mind. I called you a million times.”

He blocked James’ number. Too tempted to call him.

“What the hell, Steve?”

Before Steve could ask James what exactly he means, the other man is kissing him. A relieved, enthusiastic kiss.

Steve thinks he’s dreaming. He must be, because James just showed up out of the blue, and he’s kissing Steve in Betty’s foyer. Dream or reality, Steve’s never going to turn James Barnes down for a kiss. He gives in, kissing back, just as starved for it as the other man.

James’ hands are all over him. He’s aggressive and Steve loves it. He backs Steve up against the coat closet, lips never leaving him.

Steve needs to come up for air. He breaks their kiss, panting and licking his lips, tasting James there. Missing him, the taste of him, there.

“Fuck,” the brunet swears. And he’s suddenly gone, flying out the front door.

Steve’s confused a moment before he’s chasing after him. “James!”

He’s on the dirty, New York sidewalk with no shoes, twisting around in every direction, looking for the man that just kissed the hell out of him. But he doesn’t see him. He vanished. One minute in Steve’s arms, and the next, gone. “No, no, no…”

Not like this. Losing James the first time was rotten enough, but he’s not going to do it like this. Not in this intoxicating, phantom-like way. Not with the tingling, dizzy kiss left on his lips and the sweet taste of coffee with too much sugar in it, lingering in his mouth.

He won’t make this the last time he sees James Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during February/March of 2023
> 
> Hope you liked it :)
> 
> (My birthday is tomorrow! Yay!!!)


	13. All-nighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deserves a second chance...don't they???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go... Enjoy!

* * *

**3:18 PM **

∞∞∞

Steve sits on the sofa, leg shaking impatiently, as he stares at the floor. Morgan tried to get him to continue coloring with her, but Harley saw the perplexed look on Steve’s face and sat her on his lap, distracting her with Betty’s guitar.

He couldn’t chase after James once he remembered the kids. He couldn’t leave them alone.

Harley was certainly a responsible enough adult, and could have watched them, but it was Steve’s job. And the eldest Stark child isn’t a superhero. Try as he might, he can’t protect the others the way Steve can. They’re not called the “Collateral Damage Circle” for nothing; bad guys have a tendency to seek them out for retribution against The Avengers. Someone capable needs to be here for them.

Even if Steve’s spent the last hour on the couch, mind racing, jumpy and confused about his ex-boyfriend showing up out of the blue, and eagerly kissing him before vanishing.

“Little help, guys,” Laura Barton yells into the house as the front door swings open.

Steve and the kids bolt from their spots to help the three women with bags of groceries and a [laundry sack](https://www.target.com/p/backpack-laundry-bag-grid-pattern-white-room-essentials-8482/-/A-75662016?ref=tgt_adv_XS000000&AFID=google_pla_df&fndsrc=tgtao&CPNG=PLA_Storage%2BOrganization%2BShopping_Local&adgroup=SC_Storage%2BOrganization&LID=700000001170770pgs&network=g&device=c&location=9033504&gclid=Cj0KCQjwjOrtBRCcARIsAEq4rW6pNMvHvQHbXCMJMN_Ou9rQpkJqWPcFUURajc4bwnZZeE0eFdd2ZZAaAjbTEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) of clean clothes.

Steve manages all the bags of groceries himself, hurriedly dropping them off in the kitchen.

Betty comes in. “Thank you, Steve. I can put it all away. I know where everything goes,” she winks.

“James was here,” he blurts out.

“He was?”

“You don’t look surprised.”

“…He’s called me a few times since you two broke up. But I avoid him sometimes.”

“Why,” Steve asks.

“I didn’t know if the two of us still being friends would be something that would bother you.”

“That’s why he wasn’t at the engagement party…” Steve figures out. His fight with Natasha was a good distraction for his mind running wild with curiosity as to if James was going to show up. He and Betty had become good pals since meeting, so naturally Steve assumed James would be invited to Betty and Bruce’s engagement party.

“I wanted him to come, but I decided against inviting him at the last minute. I’m glad I did actually...”

“Why?”

“It already seemed like a stressful day for you. I didn’t want to add anything to it by him being there. So I invited him to lunch instead, but had to cancel because, you know, ‘Avengers Assemble’.”

“Betty, you… It’s okay if you want to be friends with James. I love that you’re friends. And I hate that you felt like you would get stuck in the middle or had to be cautious of my feelings.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t really know what mutual friends are supposed to do when their friends split up. I just know that you were my friend first, so I picked you. But I miss James, too.”

Steve’s reminded of him running from the library when he spotted Darcy and feels a little less stupid about the whole situation. Seems Betty had the same mixed feelings.

“He asks about you,” she tells him. “That’s usually when I go back to avoiding him. I say you’re good and try to leave it at that, but sometimes he wants to know more. I don’t know exactly how to answer. I don’t know if anything I say will really be any of his business to know. And I’m not sure how to say that to him.”

Steve’s heart is going to beat right out of his chest. James asks about him. He thinks about him… Steve was under the impression when they broke up that he was erased completely from James’ existence. That he no longer mattered to the other man. But apparently, he does.

“He kissed me.”

“What? When? When he showed up here?”

Steve nods. “And Betty it was… It drives me crazy that he always knows what I need, when I need it.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. He kissed me then ran off.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Home, his apartment, I think. I wanted to go after him but I couldn’t leave the kids, and you guys were gone—”

“Pepper,” Betty shouts.

Pepper rushes into the kitchen with a panicked look on her face. “What’s wrong? Everything okay?”

“He’s not going to listen to me, so you tell him. Tell Steve to go to James. That we’ll be fine.”

“’Go to James’. What do you mean,” the blonde woman questions.

“It’s nothing,” Steve tries to downplay.

“James showed up while we were out. He kissed the hell out of Steve then ran off. Tell Steve to go to him.”

“I can’t leave you guys here alone while The Avengers are off-world,” Steve protests.

“Steve. Go.”

Steve’s taken aback by Pepper telling him to go. “What?”

“Go to him, Steve,” Pepper insists. “We’ll be fine. I know someone I can call to stay with us.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I am going to worry about it. Because you’re my family and if I’m going to leave you while your husbands are trying to stop intergalactic elves from destroying our planet, I need to know who’s going to be making sure you’re safe while I’m gone. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me, Steven Grant Rogers?”

“I’m saying I need to trust the person that’s going to take my place in protecting you.”

He eyes narrow at him in mock intimidation, but Steve folds his canon-sized arms and glares right back.

Pepper sighs. “Fine. But don’t tell Tony I caved under your military stare. …Wade. I’m going to call Wade.”

That is absolutely not the answer Steve was expecting.

“I’ve been letting he and Peter talk,” Pepper admits. “Trying to drive them apart, put a wedge between them, did nothing but make my son miserable and hate me. I read those texts. They’re in love. As much as two people can be in love. James was right: Wade is a good man. I don’t exactly care for the way he and Peter started this whole thing, but I can’t deny that it isn’t real between them.”

“…Tony’s going to have a heart attack. He’s going to need two arc reactors.”

Pepper laughs. “Probably.” She kisses his cheek. “Go get your boy, Cap. We’re fine. Promise.”

**4:30 PM**

**∞∞∞**

James opens the door to Steve on the other side. He looks…apologetic. Ashamed almost. “…Hi.”

“Hi.”

He steps aside. Steve comes in. James closes the door behind him.

He’s wearing a short-sleeve shirt that shows off an assortment of colorful tattoos from his fingers, traveling up his left arm, and hidden under the cotton material of his sleeve. Steve wants to ask about them so badly it sets his teeth on edge.

They stare anywhere but at each other. James leans against the door, arms crossed, eyes to the floor. Steve’s own attention darts around the apartment, looking to find any changes made since the last time he was here. Looks the same for the most part.

“I thought you were dead,” James says, disrupting the awkward silence.

“You thought I was dead?”

“The last three times The Avengers ran off to save the world you weren’t with them. I’d watch on the news and you weren’t there. And I’d call Betty, hoping she’d tell me what happened to you, but every time I brought you up she’d change the subject or not return my calls.”

“Oh, my god, James… Why would you think that? I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but if I died, I’m sure it’d be considered an international tragedy.”

“I know. But I was in the Army, then I worked for S.H.I.E.L.D, and now I’m a CIA agent. When bad shit goes down, and the government doesn’t want you to know something, they’ll cover it up until they can’t anymore. And then they’ll pave a river of lies over the truth. I know how shadowy agencies work. I thought you were badly hurt, or dead and they just…didn’t want the public to know.”

“No. I was kicked off the team.”

“What?!” James looks incensed and there’s something about it that Steve loves.

“Temporarily. I had to take a leave.”

“Why?”

“…I didn’t take our breakup all that well. So, they made me take a leave of absence. That’s why you haven’t seen me on missions.”

“Oh…”

“That’s why you showed up at Betty’s?”

“Yeah. I came over to talk to her. I needed her to tell me if you were okay. I didn’t know you were there.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was worried about you. I always worry about you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

A heated, desperate moment passes between them. It’s so thick Steve feels like he can touch it. Slate-colored eyes stare at him and Steve feels weak with hope and anticipation.

“I shouldn’t’ve kissed you. I’m sorry. I was just happy you were okay.”

If Steve had to pinpoint the moment his heart died… His apology sounds so sincere Steve might break down in tears.

“I know. But I’m not going to regret that you did. I’ve missed you like that,” Steve confesses.

James opens his mouth to say something. Steve is on pins and needles waiting to hear it. But the spy closes his mouth, choosing not to reply.

It’s starting to become clear to Steve that whatever he was wishing for, expecting to happen between them, isn’t going to. James is holding back, and Steve got an answer to his question. So now what? How does he stay? Or should he go?

Screw it. James threw caution to the wind and kissed him on an airplane tarmac in Romania. It’s his turn now.

“You were never second best to Peggy.”

“Steve—”

“Please. Just let me finish and then I’ll leave. Just let me say what I need to say and I’ll go.”

He looks reluctant to give his permission, but Steve doesn’t miss the slight nod of his head.

“I know you think it’s a line, and untrue, but you really do terrify me. You scare me in a way that no one ever has before. The way I feel about you is on a brand-new level and I don’t know what to do about it. Or at least I didn’t. Which is why I ran off to Montana. Peggy died. And though it hurt, and I knew I’d miss her, it didn’t break me the way I thought it would. I didn’t disappear because I was upset about her passing. I left because it felt like a beginning more than an ending. It felt…easier to be with you with her gone.”

James’ posture changes; he stands up straight, leaning off the door. He uncrosses his arms, blue-gray eyes focused only on Steve with the weight of his speech kicking at his attention.

“Falling in love with you felt like a betrayal to her sometimes,” he admits. “Because…because I love you more than I loved her. My feelings for you made me think I was erasing her or making what I had with her meaningless. It felt like I was abandoning my past. Which is all I had for a long time. Loving you means a part of me falls out of love with Peggy. And that really did terrify me. You fucking terrify me.”

“Steve—”

“Wait, wait. Please.” Steve takes a breath, fighting back tears. “My therapist asked me why I was trying so hard to get over you? Why I wanted to so bad... It’s because I missed you. I miss you more than Peggy. She died, but you’re the one I can’t stop thinking about. You’re the one I don’t have anymore that makes every day a little bit harder to get through.”

James runs a stressed hand through his thick, brown hair. “How the hell am I supposed to just let you walk out of here after you saying something like that? Fuck, Rogers…”

Steve shoves his trembling hands into his coat pockets. James is thrown. He doesn’t want Steve to go and the expectation of what’s going to happen next is making the supersoldier nervous.

“It wasn’t entirely your fault. I wanted it to be but I kind of gave myself time to really think about it and it wasn’t just you.”

“James, you don’t have to—”

James closes the distance between them and puts a hand over Steve’s mouth. “I should have said something. I should have told you I felt like a silver medal. But I love you. I wanted to be with you. And playing second fiddle to the great Peggy Carter was something I thought I could deal with as long as I had you. Then you ran off on me, punk, and I couldn’t anymore.”

Steve gently pulls James’ hand from his mouth. His fingers brush along his lips forcing Steve to hold back a sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. But you didn’t know any of this. And that’s my fault for not saying anything. I asked you to be honest, but I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

He can’t. Steve can’t walk out the door and being anything other than his. They can’t forgive each other and part ways.

“Do you still love me?”

“…I don’t think I could ever not be in love with you.”

Steve turns on his heel, walking further into the apartment. James trails behind him, confused and curious.

Steve stops in the middle of the living room. He takes off his hat. Then his coat. He unties his boots, pulling them off his feet and letting them fall to the floor with a clunk.

“Steve. What are you doing?”

He takes his sweater off. “I’m taking my clothes off so we can make love on the couch like I’ve thought about for the last 2 weeks.”

“Steve, I know we just had a moment that could rival _The Notebook_, but I don’t think jumping into bed together right now is something we should be doing.”

Steve takes off his T-shirt. “I don’t care.”

“Clearly.”

Steve takes off his jeans. “Get undressed.”

Steve can see the hesitation all over James. He can also see the want. He remembers how much they turn each other on with just a glance, and Steve is standing in front of him in only a pair of tight, boxer briefs telling him to have sex with him. He knows presently he’s a hard thing to say ‘no’ to.

“We can talk some more later. Right now I need you.”

“I don’t want to make all new mistakes with you, Steve.”

“I don’t either, but I’ve spent my last 8 heats without you. You can’t kiss me and tell me you still love me and not expect me to want you that very minute.”

Steve leans in, brushing his lips against James’. Steve sighs, missing his soft mouth. James’ lips pucker a little, pushing against Steve’s own. He accepts the small, hesitant kiss, parting his mouth a bit, and lets the tip of his tongue tenderly taste his bottom lip.

James opens his mouth slightly, pressing his tongue against Steve’s. “Goddamnit, you little shit,” James moans. He grips Steve’s neck and slides his tongue inside his mouth.

Steve’s knees buckle. He nearly comes at the hard grasp at his neck and sweet mouth on his. James holds him up, steady in his arms, as he kisses Steve like the world’s ending. He walks backward, taking Steve with him, mouth never leaving him, to the black, leather couch. He sits. He takes Steve’s underwear off and pulls him into his lap. He lifts his hips so Steve can help him slide his sweatpants to his knees and take off his shirt.

The sleeve tattoos aren’t a sleeve; they go up to his shoulder and onto his chest in beautiful swirls, patterns, and pictures. Steve runs his hand along them, mesmerized by the color and newness.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Steve’s attention draws to the man holding him in his arms. They kiss, slow and sweet. Steve’s hands card through James’ hair. He’s amazed by the simple, small things he’s missed about James. Like the soft strands of pecan-colored hair between his fingers, and strong, calloused hands on his bare back.

“Prep me.”

James doesn’t hesitate at the request. He sucks his middle finger into his mouth, getting it wet. Steve lifts up a bit when he takes his moist finger and massages his hole. Steve sighs, ready to lose it. It’s been far too long since James touched him like this.

The tip of his thick finger breeches Steve’s pucker and gradually glides right in.

“You’ve been playing with yourself,” James smirks.

“Betty got me a prescription for a toy. It feels good but I’d rather have you inside me.”

“Yeah?”

Steve smoothly takes another finger. His hands press into James’ broad shoulders. “One more.”

James swiftly pulls his fingers out, making Steve whine. He wets three of them then puts them back where Steve wants, stretching him.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

Steve nods.

James kisses him, messy and all tongue. He pulls his fingers out of him. Steve spits into his hand and reaches from James’ cock. He’s missed the thick weight of it in his hand, the red tip and smooth foreskin. He lines James up with his entrance, watching his blissful face, as he sinks down until he bottoms-out.

Steve swivels his hips in small circles, grinding on his cock. James moans filthy and relaxed, creating a smug smile on Steve’s face. James had always taken him apart, made him weak and anxious, panting for it like a desperate Omega, but when Steve rode him, when he was in control, the tables were turned.

He leans down to James’ ear: “Talk dirty to me.”

James licks his lips and bites at the bottom with a moan. “What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you how I couldn’t stand one more rut without you? How I missed every inch of you? Your ass, your cock, your chest, that mouth of yours… Fuck, I missed your mouth on me. Your hot, wet mouth on my cock, taking me to the back of your throat. Swallowing every drop of what I give you.”

Steve moves faster, zealously, atop James’ cock. His dirty talk turning him on, making him hot and excited.

“You miss choking on my cock? Gagging on it? My cum in your mouth, spilling from your lips and down your chin?”

“Yes.”

“You came the first time you blew me.”

“I didn’t think you’d taste that sweet.”

“Open your mouth.”

Steve obeys. James pushes his thumb inside. Steve’s eyes slip close as he moans, sucking it. He moves he lower half of his body back and forth. James’ free hand grabs hard to his ass.

“I missed the smell of you,” James confesses. “I missed your scent on my sheets after we fucked.”

Steve whimpers.

“Nobody drives me crazy like you do.” James pulls his thumb from Steve’s mouth and leans forward to suck his right nipple. The blond man shouts, hands pulling at James’ hair. He moves to Steve’s left nipple and the Avenger gasps, body taut and rigid for a moment. James feels him tighten around his cock. “Show off for me, baby.”

Steve does as he’s told; he bounces up and down James’ dick, hard and fast.

James spits into his hand and wraps it around Steve’s cock. He jerks him off, quick and angry. “You’re so wet. And smell so good, doll. You want to come for me?”

“I want you to come first.”

James’ thumb rubs the damp slit at the tip of Steve’s cock. “No. No, I want to see how much you missed me.”

“I missed you a lot.”

“Show me.”

James takes over. Feet planted, his hands grip like hell onto Steve’s hips as he brutally bounces the big blond up and down his hard cock. Steve gives in, letting himself be fucked like a toy. His left arm wraps around James’ shoulders for purchase. His other hand presses against the wall behind them.

James makes a slight adjustment, tilting Steve a tiny bit to the left, and slams hard, repeatedly, on his spot. Steve cries out.

“Touch yourself,” James demands.

He does. He jerks himself off with an angry rhythm, feeling every circuit in his body come alive. “Come for me, Stevie. Come on, baby. Come for me. Let me see it. Show me you missed me like I missed you.”

That’s all the permission he needed. The build starts at the tailbone of his spine and travels through his entire body. From his fingertips to his toes, and bursts out of him through his cock in thick, white ropes. And a wail loud enough to wake the dead.

James holds him tight within his thick arms and lets go with a wrecked moan in Steve’s ear.

They stay wrapped in each other, trying to recover their breath.

Steve feels alight with a warm buzz. His body’s missed James taking care of it.

“I love you.”

James’ arms squeeze around him. He kisses Steve’s shoulder. “I love you, too, punk.”

**6:15 PM **

**∞∞∞**

They’re lying on the couch. Steve’s atop James propped up on his elbow. His fingers trace the tattoos on his arm, shoulder, and left pec. There’s a quote in Russian at his clavicle, a bouquet of sunflowers on the inside of his forearm that bleeds into thorny vines. The first letter of he and his sisters’ names are across his knuckles. His serial number is atop his shoulder. Geometric patterns shaped like honeycombs form a broken heart that starts at his armpit and trails down to the inside of his elbow. And there’s an intricate compass tattoo with the hidden coordinates of his parents’ house that takes up his entire left pec. All of them surrounding the white wolf on his bicep.

“I got one after we broke up. Then went a little overboard.”

“The sunflowers or the broken heart?”

“The sunflowers were [the first one](triplediamondtattoo.com). Then the broken heart. The rest came after.”

“They’re beautiful. All of them.”

James takes Steve’s wandering hand and entwines their fingers. “Want to design my next one?”

Steve feels strangely honored by the ask. “Yes. I would love to.”

James smiles. “Good.”

**7:36 PM**

**∞∞∞**

Steve breaks off a piece of bread and uses it to sop up the last bit of sauce from his plate. He moans as the spicy sauce touches his tongue.

“Good,” James asks, teasing.

Steve simply nods.

They’re sitting atop the island in the kitchen. James is in only his sweatpants, hanging low off his hips, with a smattering of public hair peeking out from the waistband. Steve’s in only his underwear. Their knees knock together as they sit side-by-side eating the [dinner](https://selfproclaimedfoodie.com/cajun-shrimp-pasta/) James cooked.

“Finish what you were saying.”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing really. Just… I can’t believe Nat did that.”

“You can’t believe a spy spied on you?”

Steve rolls his eyes and fixes the other man with a look. “Nat’s my friend. She’s like a sister to me. She _is_ my sister. And it turns out that I can’t trust her. And as someone that finds it hard to put her own faith into other people, I think it’s really hurtful that she would violate my privacy like that.”

“These are all fair and accurate points, and I’m not taking her side, but…even though she was absolutely wrong, her motivations…might…be…sympathetic. You’re the one on the team she’s closest to, that’s most like family to her, and she was worried about you hurting yourself during a time when you were going through a severe depression and subconsciously a danger to yourself. Also, she stopped doing it when you got better.”

“No.” Steve hops down from the island to help himself to his third serving. “She kept recording me. Just not monitoring the tapes until I told her about Rumlow.”

“Don’t ever say his name in my presence please, but speaking of which, Natalia having those tapes resulted in you winning your case.”

“For not taking her side, you sound very much like you’re taking her side.”

“I’m not! I just don’t want to see you and Natasha go through a friendship breakup.”

“I don’t plan on ending our friendship— though I should and have the complete right. I’m just addressing how difficult I think it’s going to be to get back to where we were. I don’t trust her in that way anymore. It’s going to take a long time for the two of us to renew our closeness. She hurt me. Despite that not being her intention.”

“Can I point out the irony of that statement?”

“No, jerk.”

**12:12 AM**

**∞∞∞**

“I’m starting to think I never should have told you,” James groans.

“Why? I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Is that why you’ve been pacing my bedroom floor for the last 10 minutes? Steve, if we’re going to give us another chance then we need to come clean about our actions and how we feel.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop pacing and talk to me.”

Steve stops.

James is sitting atop the bed, legs crossed and waiting. He’s right. They need to have this conversation. And so many others. Steve just didn’t expect to be hit with such honesty so quickly.

“We broke up 8 months ago. I haven’t been with anyone since. I couldn’t. The idea of someone else holding me, putting their mouth on my body, sleeping in bed with me, was something I couldn’t even fathom. And yes, a lot of my feelings about it was due to a sliver of hope of us getting back together, but… I know we’re not bonded, but it’s always felt like we were, and sleeping with someone else was too much like cheating. I know it’s not, we broke up, but when the only future I picture has you in it, the idea of another person in your place is something that doesn’t even register with me.”

James nods. “Okay. Fair. I get it. But can I acknowledge that you went on a date with that troglodyte while we were building something between us, and I didn’t hold it against you?”

“…Fair,” Steve concedes, gritting his teeth.

“Steve. Like I said, I was angry and hurt and my rut hit me like a mack truck. So, I called an old hookup.”

“Two weeks after we broke up! And why do you have ex-lover’s number stored in your phone?!”

“I never bothered to delete it! I never cheated on you, Steve!”

“I didn’t say you did!”

“Bu you’re working your way around to implying it! I’d never do that to you. I love you too much to ever hurt you like that. And FYI, if I wanted to sleep with other people, I’d tell you and just end things with us. Cheating is mean and greedy and stupid. I’m not that kind of Alpha. I don’t do it.”

Steve leans against the floor-to-ceiling window, eyeing the cityscape. They need to take a beat.

They’re open and honest conversation was going well until James told Steve he slept with an old flame right after they broke up. He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone since, but Steve didn’t care. All he heard was that James made love to someone else, during his rut that wasn’t him, and unraveled.

He knows he has no right to judge James, or be angry at him for it, but it hurts, nonetheless. He meant what he said: the idea of intimacy with another person turned Steve off while they were broken up. And resisting it was easy. He spent 8 years celibate before he and James slept together. Eight months was a walk in the park.

For him at least, it seems.

“Your jealousy is adorable,” James says. “But also, really annoying.”

“I was on a clean slate when we started dating. And I mentally put you on one, too. And that unblemished record of just the two of us belonging to each other carried over into our breakup for me. Now, all I see is a black mark.”

“This is a clean slate, too, Steve. The two of us starting over, with better perspectives and more honesty, is brand new. We were never going to pick up right where we left off. This is Steve and James 2.0. The past is the past except to learn from it.”

Steve chuckles. “Natasha has a way of getting me off my ass. And you always make things clearer.”

“You make it easy to be vulnerable.”

“I do?”

James crosses the room to Steve. He leans in close to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “Yeah. You do.”

“I told your mom you were a gentleman.”

James smiles. “She told me.”

“Does she hate me?”

“No. No one in my family does. In fact, Frankie was really bothered by me breaking up with you. She didn’t think I was being fair. And said it was shitty to cut you out of my life the way I did. So, I’d like to apologize for that, too. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t’ve overreacted.”

“No. But I got to admit, a jealous Steve Rogers is kind of hot.”

Steve blushes. “Oh, yeah? How hot?”

James smiles that cocky, lopsided grin of his. “Come to bed and I’ll show you.”

**1:49 AM**

**∞∞∞**

“Why’d you throw him off the building,” James asks.

Steve sighs. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want James to think about what type of person he is to have tossed a man, even a mad scientist, off a tall building. He groans, burying his face in James’ ribs.

“What did you say? Hey. Talk to me.”

Steve lifts his head a bit. “I said…I was angry. About us. And I wanted to take it out on someone else. Someone no one would miss.”

James runs his hand through Steve’s hair, coaxing the other man to look up at him. “Then what happened?”

“Sam and Nat and Tony told Fury. Next thing I know, I’m in anger management.”

“And I’m guessing that didn’t go all that well.”

Steve shakes his head. “They took me off the team. It was all I had left, and they took it from me. I hated it at first, but then I stared liking it.”

James smiles. “Oh, yeah? What do you like about not being an Avenger?”

Steve sits up, more engaged with the new direction of this conversation. “I have all this free time I was really scared of having. I didn’t know what to do with it all. Then one day, I went to the museum. Then the next day the library. The day after that, Coney Island. Pepper needed a date to the opera one night, so I went with her. We saw La Boheme. It was beautiful, James. I cried the entire time. And sometimes I go to the park to sketch or just people watch. I’ve read so many books and I watched all the TV shows on the list Sam made me. I went bowling with Clint, and me and Banner went on one of those tourist guides around the city. There’s so much about New York I thought I knew but didn’t. I paint more. And I’ve been teaching myself origami.”

James laughs. “Sounds like you’ve needed some time off from fighting bad guys. You’re having fun.”

“I am. I’ve been doing the serious stuff, too. Like going to Dr. Houston twice a week, and group therapy with the team. Sam wants me to help out at the VA with him, but I don’t know if I can sit through more counseling. Even if I’m the one there to help.”

“Understandable.”

“I think I’m going to volunteer at a shelter instead. Did you know 1 in 10 people without shelter are veterans?”

“Unfortunately, I did. I’ve known a few personally. It’s horrible.”

“No one that fights for their country should end up in squalor or destitute. That’s not how your country should thank you.”

James tenderly runs his thumb along Steve’s lips. “You’re preaching to the choir, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s just hard for guys to get back into every day life after they serve. Was hard for me. But I had a support system. I had my family. I had my dad who served and knew how to help.”

“I’m starting to think maybe I should volunteer at the VA center.”

“I think you should help wherever you want to.”

Steve sits up on his elbow., peering at the other man. His fingertips find the colorful tattoos on his left side again as he traces them delicately. “What did you do while we weren’t together?”

James shrugs. “Not much. I moved back in with my parents for a while. For about a month. Couldn’t stand the silence with you not around.”

“I moved back into the Tower. I still have my place, but I haven’t been back there since I was forced to leave the team.”

“So, just you and Natasha there, huh?”

“No. They all moved back in, too. To help me. I was kind of spiraling at first.”

James takes Steve’s hand and kisses his palm. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Steve doesn’t want to dwell too much on his depression. He’s sill trying to navigate through it, and it gets rough to talk about at times. “Tell me what else you did.”

“I went to visit Hope in San Francisco. Her husband, Scott, is your biggest fan, by the way. And that’s not hyperbole. Wanda came to visit for a few days with Victor and stayed at my place. She had some not-so-nice things to say about you in her mother tongue when I told her we broke up.”

Steve likes Wanda. He’s disappointed she no longer cares for him.

“Don’t worry. She’ll come back around. You’re hard to stay mad at,” James tells him, reading his mind. “Grace had the baby.”

“I saw pictures of him on Instagram. Until I deleted it. Looking at pictures of you holding a baby wasn’t good for me.”

James smiles at him. “You’re adorable.”

“What else, or is that it,” Steve asks.

“I took a small assignment in [Antarctica](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savage_Land) of all places. It was only for four days. I needed the distraction. Wade came with. All he did was opine about Peter the whole trip.”

“Peter wasn’t doing so great here either, according to Pepper. What’s in Antarctica,” Steve asks.

“That’s top secret I’m afraid, Mr. Rogers.”

“I have Level 9 security clearance I’ll have you know.”

“Captain America has Level 9 security clearance. Steve Rogers, who’s on leave from The Avengers, does not.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “You know I’ll just ask Fury, don’t you?”

“I don’t even think Fury knows about Antarctica.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fury knows everything. It’s annoying. So, I doubt he’s in the dark about it.”

“Want to bet?”

Steve grins. “What’s the wager?”

James thinks a moment… “If Fury knows, I will rub your smelly feet every night for a week.”

“My feet don’t smell!”

“But if it looks like he doesn’t, I pick our couple’s costume for Halloween.”

“Planning on keeping me around that long?”

“If you’re lucky.”

**3:24 AM**

**∞∞∞**

They’ve never made love like this and Steve has no idea why given how good the slow drag on James’ cock feels in and out of him. He likes how close they are in this [position](https://sexinfo101.com/positions/spoons/spoon?set=rear-entry). He likes James looking at him. He likes how close their lips are and how easily they kiss.

James lifts Steve’s left leg, resting his thigh atop his. The slight change in angle lets James push in deeper, right atop his prostate.

Steve moans and James swallows it with a kiss.

Steve may call it “making love,” but he knows that’s not what he and James have been doing. They both have an affinity for hard and fast and dirty sex. Rough sex.

They fuck.

Except now. Now, they’re making love. Achingly slow and loving. James touches him gently, like precious metal to be treasured. Steve’s skin is warm instead of hot and sweaty. He’s wet, like always, but not soaked and oozing all over the bedspread. His whole body feels like it’s humming instead of trembling with want. He feels good. Dream-like.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, gorgeous.”

Steve licks his lips. James kisses him devotedly. Steve sighs, melting into his hold.

“James. Claim me.”

“Stevie, baby…”

“Please. Right now. Claim me.”

He wants him to. Desperately. And he can’t think of a more perfect moment for James to do it. He wants James to own him. To let everyone else know he’s owned by him. He wants strangers on the street to see the faded white scar on his neck and smell the declaring scent of his Alpha there. Of sandalwood and elderflower mixed within his own smell. Claiming bites aren’t eternal, but the express commitment. Security. He wants that etched into his skin. He wants James to tell everyone they belong to only each other.

“Fuck. I don’t think you realize you said all that out loud.”

Steve squirms. Feeling euphoric with the idea, and leisurely pace of James pulling in and out of his sensitive hole. “Please.” His pre-cum is getting thicker, dripping out of him in fat webs of cream that run down his shaft.

“I can smell you,” James growls in his ear.

Steve digs his head deeper into the bed, presenting his neck. “Do it.”

James licks a long, slow stripe up his neck.

“_Alpha_, please. Pl—”

Steve cries out as James’ teeth sink into his neck. His lips close around his skin as the bite becomes harder. Steve comes effortlessly in dribbling rivulets of hot cum with a soft gasp. Drool and drops of blood crawl along Steve’s neck. James laps at the bloody indents. Steve whimpers.

He pulls out of Steve carefully. The mess he made inside him spills out. James gathers it onto his fingers and rubs it into the raw **bite mark** on Steve’s neck.

Steve sniffles and James turns his head to look at him. His eyes are wet with tears; long lashes matted and damp.

“What color are you, baby?”

“Green. Always green.”

James kisses him. The spy has kissed him a million times. Each one with their own reason and objective. But this one. This one feels devout. Almost pious. Like a vow.

Steve doesn’t need to ask what it is though. He already knows. Because his lips make the same promise.

**6:47 AM**

**∞∞∞**

“I thought I lost it.”

James yawns, “Lost what?”

“My love of this place. New York,” Steve says wistfully.

He’s lying across James’ stomach, staring out the window, watching the sunrise over the Manhattan Bridge as they lay in bed.

“Can’t imagine you falling out of love with New York.”

“Felt like I almost did. But that might’ve been not having you to share it with.”

“Miss me that much, huh,” James teases.

“Dr. Houston said sometimes breakups can feel like they’ve ruined us. And that sometimes they do.”

James fondly scratches at the back of Steve’s neck. “Sounds about right.”

“Is that how you felt without me? Ruined?”

“…Yes.”

Steve’s surprised by that answer. He shouldn’t be. James has told how much he missed him, and how miserable he was without him. How worried and scared he was, too. So much so he showed up at Betty’s place, banging the door down, for answers about where Steve was.

Steve sits up. “I’m quitting The Avengers permanently.”

“W-where’d that come from?”

“Been thinking about it for a while. I need to retire. I want to retire. I’ve been fighting so long that I forgot how to just be. It took me getting tossed off the team for me to find who I am again. What I like and don’t like. What I want to do and see. I stayed because of my friends. My family. And because I thought they needed me. That the world needed me. But it’s doing alright without me. There’s always going to be another superhero to save it. Avengers or someone else.”

“Are you sure about this, Steve?”

“I don’t want to be Captain America anymore. I just want to be Steve Rogers. _Your_ Steve Rogers.”

“Don’t leave The Avengers for me. I don’t want that. You can stay on the team until you really are a hundred for all I care.”

Steve laughs. “No thanks. There’s other things I want instead.”

“Like what?”

“A house. Upstate. On a farm.”

“You want a farm?”

“Yeah. A strawberry farm. So, I can make jam and sell it at the market.”

James’ face is stunned. Mouth agape.

“What,” Steve chuckles. “What did I say?”

“Do you want that? Like really want that?”

“Do you want it with me,” Steve asks nervously.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Can’t retire just yet though. Some of us aren’t superheroes who can quit anytime they want.”

“As long as you come home to me.”

A shy, bashful smile grows on the brunet’s face. Steve wants to point it out, playfully mock him over being flattered, but he can’t. Not when James’ face is three shades of pink and the Cheshire Cat-like grin he always sports is replaced with one that makes him look like a lovestruck 15-year-old.

Instead, he tucks into the bedsheet, cuddling James with his head on his stomach again.

They watch sunrays blast through puffy clouds and turn the untouched sky into a shade of blue Steve wishes he could paint with.

**8:51 AM**

**∞∞∞**

Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” blares through the room, jolting Steve and James awake. James groans as Steve recognizes it as his ringtone for Tony.

He bumbles grabbing his cellphone off the nightstand. “Hello…? Tony! Are you guys back? You okay…? No… I… I know, Tony, but Pepper… I didn’t invite Wade over your wife did… Why would I kill him…?”

“Oh, god,” James bemoans. He climbs out of bed and disappears into the front room.

“Tony, relax, before you do or say something, you’ll… Tony! You can’t… Who is that in the background…?”

James returns with the clothes he and Steve shed before fucking on the couch. He tosses Steve’s onto the bed and gets dressed in his own.

“Tony who are you screaming at? Wade?” He turns to James. “Tony’s yelling, Pepper is yelling, and I can hear Peter crying. But Wade’s…laughing.”

“Yeah, and if I know Wade Wilson, which I do, that means we need to get over to Betty’s ASAP. Hang up.”

Steve hangs up and climbs out of bed. He grabs his clothes to get dressed.

“Tin Man pissed you weren’t there to welcome him home?”

“Yes. And I don’t think having Wade greet him at the door helped.”

James shrugs. “Pepper insisted.”

“I know, but—”

“But what? You regret coming over now?”

Steve touches the bite mark on his neck. It’s sore but healing into a nice, visible scar. “Absolutely not.”

James grabs him by his shirt and pulls him over the bed. He kisses him. “Good.” James releases him. “Because if you think Iron Man losing it over Wade Wilson chaperoning his kids all night is a shitshow, wait until you tell him you’re leaving the team for good.”

James grins, cocky and teasing, as he leaves the room to grab his shoes.

Steve is a dead man. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this particular story and the rules within it's universe:
> 
> Claiming = publicly recognizing you are taken with a visible bite scar on your neck, and your mate's scent embedded into your own; akin to being engaged, but emotionally, not by law
> 
> Bonded = a claiming bite enables an Alpha and Omega's biology to sync; they'll experience their heat and rut simultaneously
> 
> Hope you liked it! HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🎃🎃🎃
> 
> And THANK YOU all for your lovely birthday wishes!!! Means the word. xoxo  



	14. 14 Months Later...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day with Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter... ENJOY!

* * *

Sam hoists a crate of lettuce off the truck. “I want it on record that I’d only get up at the ass-crack of dawn to haul produce for you.”

Steve chuckles. “So you’ve said.”

Sam follows him inside, through the back door, and into the industrial kitchen.

There are already about fifteen volunteers there: cleaning, cooking, setting up. When Steve started coming to the shelter there were only a handful of volunteers, but since the media put word out that Captain America volunteers at homeless shelters around the city a few months ago, there’s been a suspiciously large uptick in the number of people who want to help the disenfranchised. Steve’s not about the complain though. Extra hands are extra hands, despite the reason. And Steve thinks maybe some of them will learn the importance of the work they’re doing and how much caring for others is beneficial to humanity.

Steve and Sam drop their vegetable crates onto the counter by the sinks for washing.

They head back out to the alley to pick up more food from the deliverymen.

Steve grabs three large sacks of rice like they weigh nothing. Sam stacks boxes of fruit atop one another onto a dolly.

The sun isn’t out yet, but it sure feels like it. Summers in New York are brutal. And lugging heavy wood crates of food back and forth from a smelly alley isn’t making their labor any less taxing. But it’s for a good reason, so neither of them is about to complain.

Sam wheels the dolly to the sinks and unloads the fruit. Steve drops the sacks of rice in the pantry. They head back out.

“You doing case management today,” Sam asks.

“No. Not today. And I only do hot meals at this one.”

They’ve cleared out the produce trucks. Steve pulls down the sliding back doors and gives them an ‘all clear’ smack. The drivers turn their engines over and carefully pull into the street just as a short, white van backs into the alley from the other end.

“Steve, are you sure you’re not spreading yourself too thin? I mean, you’re working at five different shelters.”

“I work at three shelters and volunteer at two,” Steve clarifies. Sam rolls his eyes at his friend. “I told you, the way I worked my hours out with each of them only totals 45 hours a week. I come in at five-thirty in the morning and I’m out by three. Weekends off, except one Sunday a month. Perfect schedule. I’m fine.”

Sam holds up his hands in surrender. “Just checking.”

“I no longer have a problem telling people when I can’t handle something.”

The short, white van is from a local bakery.

“Is that before or after you go overboard?”

Steve flips him off.

“That is very unbecoming of an American icon.”

“_The_ American icon.”

Sam laughs.

Steve and Sam open the van’s back doors and grab hard, plastic racks of freshly baked bread in bread bags, bringing them inside.

“Baby’s due in seven weeks,” Steve grins proudly.

“Don’t remind me…”

Steve loves how nervous Sam is about becoming a new dad. His friend may be anxious, but Steve knows there’s no one on Earth that’ll make a better father than Sam Wilson. They place the racks of bread on baker’s racks.

“How’s Maria doing? She still upset you and Fury made her go on maternity leave?”

“Pissed. The word you’re looking for is ‘pissed’. I can’t believe that woman tried to go on a mission [33 weeks pregnant](https://www.whattoexpect.com/pregnancy/week-by-week/week-33.aspx)!”

“You can’t,” Steve asks surprised.

He frowns. “No. You’re right. I _can_ believe it.”

They go back outside. The delivery driver waves at them as he turns out of the alley and into the quiet street.

Steve loves this time of day; when the city is deserted and quiet. Just before the hustle and bustle. When the sun peeks through the blue hour, shifting the sky into bright summer hues, leaving twilight behind.

“She’ll relax once the baby is here.”

“I don’t think you know my wife, Mr. Rogers. I know her. Just like I know you.”

A mid-sized, refrigerated truck pulls into the alley. Steve pulls pair of [freezer gloves](https://www.davern.co.uk/hand-protection/freezer-split-back-glove.html) from his back pocket and puts them on. He hands Sam the pair hanging from the other back pocket of his jeans.

“What does that mean?”

“It means a little birdy told me they had to stop you from buying a crib the other day.”

“In case you needed me to baby-sit! That way Little Sam has a proper bed at my place.”

Sam laughs. He pats Steve on the back. “You’re going to make a great uncle, Steve.”

Steve’s already Morgan’s godfather, but truth be told, he couldn’t wait for the day Sam became a father in order to flex his muscles as a proper uncle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

He means it. Steve can see the sincerity in his friend’s face, in his eyes. Sam always says what he means, kind word or venom. And he’s never uttered a word to Steve that wasn’t full of fond love and generosity and truth. Even when he felt Steve wasn’t acting in his best self-interests.

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam nods. “You’re welcome. Now, lets get the rest of this stuff inside. The sun is starting to come up and I will not carry sixty pounds of meat back and forth in New York heat.”

“Agreed.”

∞∞∞

Steve spits up his coffee. He grabs his napkin and cleans his mouth, coughing. He takes a sip of water and clears his throat. He sits up straight, somehow thinking it’ll make him hear Tony better. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said ‘Peter and Wade are living together’,” Tony repeats, cutting into his [blueberry waffles](https://www.layersofhappiness.com/homemade-browned-butter-blueberry-waffles/).

“Peter, your son, and Wade, ‘the merc with the mouth’ you call him, are living together? In Cambridge? While Peter goes to MIT? I’m having a hard time believing you’ve allowed that to happen out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Peter wasn’t doing so great the first semester…until Wade went to visit. Then Wade left and Peter wanted to drop out. Said he missed home, his room, his friends…Wade,” he says with an eye roll and a small groan. “Moving away from home, in a city you’re not familiar with, surrounded by people you don’t know, and going to a really hard school… It was hard for him, the change, the adjustment. Harley sprinted out of the house the minute he was accepted to CalTech; only came home on holidays or when the Avengers had to assemble, so he could look after his brother and sister. But Peter… It was a lot for him. And not just because he was miles away from Wade.”

Steve digs into his poached eggs. “So, Wade went down there to live? To keep him company?”

“No. Peter told Wade he was going to drop out and come back home. Told him not to tell me, but Wade showed up at my door and told me and Pepper Peter’s brilliant plan. We were concerned but Wade was…dramatic. He wanted us to do something to stop him from making a mistake. So, I came up with the idea to get Petey a place off-campus—lovely [condo](https://www.apartments.com/proto-cambridge-ma/wvwfs4l/) with brand new everything; nothing but tech geeks live in the building. It’s got a rec room with table tennis and a Playstation—and let he and Wade live together there.”

“What’s the catch?”

“They live there rent-free, all expenses paid, and the only thing Peter has to do is finish school, top of his class.”

“What about a claiming bite, or bonding? Haven’t budged on that?”

“Never. Or at least until Petey finishes school. Wade agreed.”

“Got to admit, I’m impressed, Tony. This is mighty big of you.”

Tony sips his coffee. “I’d pat myself on the back if I didn’t feel like all I did was buy an apartment for my son to have sex with his 42-year-old boyfriend in.” He shrugs, “Better than them doing it Wade’s car and cheap motels like they were last year, I guess.”

“One of these days, you’re going to have to realize it isn’t just sex between them. They’re genuinely in love. As so evident by Wade demanding you save your son from himself.”

“One of these days. Just not today.”

“Is Peter doing better at least?”

“His grades say so.”

Steve bites into a crispy strip of bacon on his plate. “Good news then.”

“Rogers. Steve.” Steve looks up from people-watching the lesbian couple sharing a secret laugh between them. Tony pushes his plate aside. And leans his elbows on the table, looking very serious. “This retirement…is it serious?”

“I’d say so, given I haven’t been Captain America for the last 14 months.”

He made his retirement official by having Fury red-stamp his file at S.H.I.E.L.D “inactive.” Every government agency known to man revoked his security clearance and wiped him from their systems. He hasn’t been on a single mission since. The army sent his last check of backpay 3 months ago and started sending him pension payments. They took his uniform, claiming it to be property of the US government.

They tried to take his shield, too, but Steve refused. He had to go to court to defend his right to keep it, arguing it was a gift, seeing as how Howard Stark made it for him. Tony testified on his behalf. He even had a home movie of Howard bragging how he and Steve were friends and he made his shield for him as a present.

So, yes, he’s 100% done with being Captain America. Tony knows this. Steve has the broken nose to prove it from when Tony punched him in the face when he told him he wanted out of The Avengers. Took nearly a month before either of them spoke to each other after that.

“What’s this about, Tony?”

“There’s an issue. In Antarctica. And we could really use you, Cap.”

“You don’t need me, Tony. You’ve got a great team. And I heard a rumor Fury found a girl, a friend of his, that was living in space, that has powers.”

“How’d you know about Carol?”

“I still got friends inside S.H.I.E.L.D. The point being, I’m flattered you think you need me. And I love that you miss me. I miss you, too. But I’m not an Avenger anymore. And I don’t want to be. I loved it. And I love you guys. But this is my life now and it makes me happy beyond belief. I only ever wanted to fight in one war, not a dozen.”

Tony nods like he understands but is still disappointed. “I get it. You got plans.”

Steve smiles, “I do.”

Tony moves his plate back in front of him and picks up his fork, flipping it in his hand. “Guess I just miss kicking ass next to you.”

“I miss it sometimes, too. Hence, our Sunday brunches.”

Tony chuckles. “Are you suggesting a [lox and cream cheese spread](https://rawsilkandsaffron.com/2019/04/20/food-brunch-board-spread/) evokes the same adrenaline rush as taking down a Hydra cell, or beating the crap out of Kang?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s really good cream cheese.”

It takes a lot for Tony Stark to think you’re funny, let alone laugh at a joke you make. But when he does, it’s well-earned.

∞∞∞

Steve grabs the dead flowers he left last month and replaces them with fresh, red roses.

Her tombstone looks a little dusty. He grabs the [handkerchief](https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbumblebeelinens.com%2Fimages%2FJUMBO%2FHankie3_HMW-001.jpg&f=1&nofb=1) from his pocket and wipes it down. There are new stones atop it, so Steve knows her kids have visited recently.

He forgot their names. He wasn’t really listening at the funeral when they introduced themselves; too overcome with a thousand emotions to hear them over the rush of blood in his ears. Everyone sounded so muddled and distant. Like they were underwater…

They made a good decision burying her under a tree, Steve thinks. Allows for more privacy and space. The dead leaves are gone, so it’s just clear, green grass under his feet.

The shade doesn’t hurt either given how hot it is out. But Steve prefers visiting her when it’s sunny. In the fall and winter, coming here takes a lot out of him, always making him cry. His tears dry on his face when the stinging wind whips at his face. Spring and summer are the best times to pay his respects…

_“_ _Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.”_

She wasn’t religious. In fact, she was pretty much an atheist. The prayer is never for her though, but for him, having been indoctrinated with Catholicism since a baby.

“Not much going on lately. But maybe I’ll have news next time.”

He bends at the knee to wrap his handkerchief around the flowers he brought into a bow. “I miss you,” he whispers. He stands at full height and slips his sunglasses on. “See you next week, Pegs.”

He kisses his fingers then presses them to her warm gravestone, before trotting down the hill she rests atop, toward the gated exit.

∞∞∞

Steve knocks lightly on her door. “On your way out?”

Dr. Houston smiles at him. “I’ve got 5 minutes.”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he says, stepping into her office.

She waves him off dropping her purse on her desk. “Please. You’re allowing me to be fashionably late to the surprise party my son and daughter-in-law don’t think I know about.”

Steve chuckles. “You don’t like surprise parties?” He sits in his usual spot; in the right corner of the tufted sofa in front of her armchair.

“Oh, no. I hate being caught off-guard. You?”

“I love them.”

“Now, that’s interesting. Would have pegged you as someone who’s not a fan of surprises.”

“I suspect most people would, but there can be good surprises. And I really like those.”

“So, what’s going on? You don’t usually make unexpected visits.”

“I came to wish you ‘happy birthday’.”

“And,” she asks, not buying it.

Steve takes a breath. “I visited Peggy today.”

“You visit her every week.”

“But today… Today was the first time I didn’t want to be there. Not in any hurt, sorrowful way, but… I didn’t feel like I needed to be. At first, I was going all the time to talk to her because I felt like I had to, like I had to explain myself. Like I needed her to absolve me. Then I was going twice a week to just tell her things. Big things, little things, insignificant things. Then it became once a week. And I’d still talk, but mostly sit or say a prayer then go.”

“Is that what happened today?”

Steve nods. “I don’t know if I’ve run out of things to say to her or if…”

“If what, Steve,” Dr. Houston prods.

“If I don’t want to talk to her anymore. If I don’t want to…share my life with a dead woman.”

“You feel ashamed saying that.”

Steve nods.

“Why? Because it’s not polite? It’s hurtful? To who? Who does the truth hurt? Who’s being hurt by honesty here?” She leans forward and squeezes his hands. “We’ve talked about this. Moving on is good. It doesn’t mean forgetting or casting aside.”

“This doesn’t feel like moving on. It’s more like…being done? It feels… Visiting Peggy now feels like obligation. It’s starting to require a lot of…effort.”

Dr. Houston leans back into her chair, letting go of his hands. “What do you think that means, Steve?”

“I think it means… It means Peggy isn’t here anymore. And that’s okay. And there’s nothing for her to forgive because I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What else?”

“…It means I have my own life. Devoid of Peggy Carter. I don’t need to keep apologizing to her about that. I don’t want to.”

She smiles, “As you shouldn’t.”

“I miss her. I’ll always miss her, but I need to be free of her. I’ve been letting her hang around in the back of my mind like a ghost. I want to let her go.”

“Sounds like you have.” Dr. Houston stands, grabbing her purse and keys off her desk. “You look pensive… You feel guilty. And want me to tell you your feelings, your actions, are valid and acceptable.”

“No.”

“Then what? Why the visit?”

Steve stands. He hugs her. She hesitantly wraps her arms around him, patting him on the back.

“Thank you,” he says. He can feel her smile, cheeks puffy against his neck.

“You’re welcome, Steve.”

∞∞∞

“Why am I not surprised your favorite bar is a place called [The Brass Monkey](https://brassmonkeynyc.com/),” Steve remarks, as he sits down on the stool beside Clint.

“Found this place by accident.”

“How do you find a rooftop bar by accident,” Bruce asks.

“I’m fucking Hawkeye. 90% of the time I’m on a roof. Or in the air ducts. Jumped onto this place a couple years back, chasing a guy, been coming ever since. Laura likes it, too.” Clint flags down a bartender and signals for another round.

“Where is she by the way,” Steve asks. “And Betty?”

“Betty said her dad needed help with something and that was enough said for me. So, I called you and Clint out for a drink.”

The bartender brings a round of beers for the three of them.

“Laura is… I don’t know where Laura is actually.”

“You don’t know where your wife is?”

“I don’t keep a LoJack on her, Steve. We have a trusting, non-possessive marriage.”

“In other words, he didn’t bother to ask,” Bruce chimes in.

“That, too.”

“Other than your wives abandoning you, how are things,” Steve asks.

“Well, Coop’s getting ready for college. Lila’s still my girl, but she and Laura are heading into that weird, mother-daughter stage where all they do is fight, so that’s nice. And Nate, as it turns out, might have Asperger’s. He goes in to see a specialist next week.”

“W-what’s…Asperger’s,” Steve asks.

“As told to me, but the school therapist, and Nate’s teacher, it’s a developmental disorder that affects a person’s social interactions and communication,” Clint explains.

“You know if he does have Asperger’s, it’s okay. A lot of kids are on the spectrum. There are teachers, programs, tools, that’ll help him as he grows up. I know an incredible speech therapist. And there’s social skills training he could learn,” Bruce reminds.

“I know. I just… Me and Laura don’t care if Nate has Asperger’s. We just don’t want him to be seen as different. I don’t want other kids, asshole kids, picking on him, you know?”

Steve does know. He remembers quite well what it was like when he was small and sickly. And how kids could be so cruel. How many of them were bullies. Most of all though, he remembers feeling alone. Being ostracized. That was the worst part.

“Does he know what the doctor appointment next week is for,” Bruce asks.

“No. I’m not so sure he’d understand if we told him. Not because he might, you know, have the thing, but because he’s young.”

“Kids surprise you with how much they know sometimes,” Steve says, sipping his cold beer.

“And with how little. Nate’s still at that innocent age.”

Bruce slaps his back, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s alright, Clint. We’ll all make sure if Nate does have Asperger’s, he’ll get all the love and support he needs. He’s a bright kid. He’ll be okay.”

“You’re his dad,” Steve says. “He’s already ahead of the curve. Doesn’t change him being a sweet boy.”

“Alright, dicks. Don’t make me get all weepy at my favorite bar now.” Steve catches him wiping away a tear from his eye. “Let’s stop talking about me.” Clint drums a quick beat on the bartop. “Bruce. What’s going on with the kid situation?”

A bright smile blooms on the scientist’s face. He grabs his cellphone out of his back pocket and scrolls through it a bit. He turns it around and shows them a picture of an adorable 4-year-old girl. “Her name is [Ayesha](https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fgailblackchildren.files.wordpress.com%2F2015%2F04%2Fbigstock-outdoor-close-up-portrait-of-a-45302524.jpg&f=1&nofb=1). She’s been in the system since she was an infant, but we’re going to New Jersey to meet her in person in two weeks for a supervised visit.”

Steve loves how much of a proud papa he looks like already.

He felt horrible at first when Betty told him she and Bruce couldn’t physically have children. She told him she was incapable of birthing natural children, but even if she wasn’t, she and Bruce didn’t know if they’d want to, given Bruce’s Hulk-DNA. There was no-telling what the results would be if Betty were to get pregnant, but neither of them thought they’d be good.

Steve knows it’s really hard for female Omegas to find out they’re infertile. It’s a part of their biology, and drilled into them as little girls, that their number one goal should be to “marry well and bring lots of babies into the world.” Or that’s how it used to be. But Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Betty’s father, Secretary Ross, shared those old school, sexist views.

But Betty brightened when she told him they were going to adopt instead. It’s taken the better part of a year, but they’ve finally found their daughter. A sweet, little thing they’ve been allowed to FaceTime with over the last few weeks.

“Then what? What happens next,” Steve asks, trying to not sound as excited as he thinks he does.

“A couple more supervised visits. A home inspection and another interview. Then, hopefully, an unsupervised visit, or sleepover. If that goes well then, we can formalize the adoption, and Ayesha officially come home with us.”

“Does being an Avenger make the process difficult,” Steve asks.

“The opposite actually. They see me as a strong protector and role model. And with Betty being a doctor, Captain America’s doctor no less— thank you for being a character witness, by the way—we look like the perfect couple to take home a child.”

“We’re happy for you, Bruce,” Clint smiles.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Let’s celebrate with a round of shots!” Clint flags down the bartender again.

Steve wishes the archer knew how rude whistling at the poor girl in a crowded bar is, but that’s just Clint. Even if he did tell him it won’t matter. The only person he listens to his Laura.

“Oh, I don’t want to jinx it and celebrate just yet, Clint.”

“Alright, alright… Well, how ‘bout a toast to…the future? Yeah, the future. Three shots of [Don Julio](https://www.donjulio.com/en-us/) please. No training wheels.”

The bartender smirks and pours three shots of tequila. She pushes them across the bar to each of them. “Hey. You guys look familiar…”

“Oh, yeah. Like who,” Clint asks, teasing. He’s as bad as Tony poking at their identities with strangers.

She shakes her head. “Nevermind. There’s no fucking way you guys are The Avengers.” She returns to flirting with the suit at the other end of the bar.

The three of them laugh.

“If she only knew… To the future. Whatever it may hold,” Clint cheers.

They clink glasses. “The future,” Steve and Bruce hail.

∞∞∞

**JAMES**: Where do you go to talk in circles?

**STEVE**: What?

**STEVE**: Are you drunk?

**JAMES**: Nope. Now answer my riddle.

**STEVE**: I don’t know.

**JAMES**: Too bad. Only way you’ll find me…

**STEVE**: Are you not at home? Where are you???

**STEVE**: James.

**STEVE**: Fine.

∞∞∞

It takes Steve nearly a half-hour to solve James’ riddle, and even now he’s not so certain he got it right… But he walks along the piers of Brooklyn Bridge Park approaching the enclosed, glass building. It’s quiet out. Dark, too. He doesn’t see James anywhere… He’s too tired for this. He’s been out since the sun rose. He just wants a hot shower and to crawl in his warm bed with James.

“James?”

Nothing. Just the low slushing of the East River…

Steve takes his cellphone from his back pocket, ready to call James, when bright lights flood the area with a crackle. He turns to see [Jane’s Carousel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane%27s_Carousel) lit up in all its glory.

“Where do you go to talk in circles,” James shouts in his direction. James is sitting casually on one of the wooden animals smirking at him.

Steve smiles, approaching the carousel. “A merry-go-round,” he answers.

“Hey, gorgeous. Want to take a ride with me?”

“Who gave you access to this thing?”

“A friend owed me a favor.”

Steve jumps aboard the ride. He and James kiss, slow and tender.

“I love when you kiss me like that,” Steve blushes.

“I know. Stay put.”

James jumps off the ride and toward the control podium. He turns on the circus music and presses a big, red button that gets the ride going. Steve grins. James jumps back onto the carousel.

“Well, Rogers, pick your steed.”

Steve looks around selectively, running his hands along the smooth, coated wood of the painted animals.

He finds a black stallion with a gray mane, ready to gallop off. “This one.” He climbs atop it. James hops onto the ostrich beside him, making Steve laugh.

He can’t stop grinning. He can’t remember the last time he was on a carousel, but he knows it was definitely before the serum. And it certainly was this romantic.

“Having fun,” James asks, leaning casually forward on his “seat.”

Steve loves how being cool is so effortless for James. Makes him feel special, being picked by him. Chosen to be the one he wants to be with. He told Pepper that once and she called James “The Prom King” for a week. And admittedly, being with James does feel a little like going out with the most popular boy in school.

“Yes.”

“Good. Good day?”

“Yeah. Missed you though.”

“Missed you, too, punk.”

James grabs Steve’s shirt and gently tugs him closer. Their lips touch in a sexy kiss that Steve melts into with a content sigh. Steve deepens their kiss, turning it greedy.

But James breaks it with a smile. “You’re distracting me.”

“From what?”

James offers his hand. Steve takes it. “From telling you, Steven Grant Rogers, that I love you like no other. You are everything I ever wanted and a few things I didn’t know I needed.” James hops off his ostrich. “You’re a right little shit, but you’re also brilliant, kind, loyal to a fault, brave, generous, funny, and honest. I know there will always be moments when living this life is going to feel hard for you, but I am selfishly glad you’re here, with me. Because I can’t imagine my life without you.” James reaches for Steve’s left hand. “Steve. Will you marry me,” he asks, slipping a [thin, gold band](https://www.kay.com/wedding-band-14k-yellow-gold-2mm/p/V-244133409) onto his ring finger.

“W-w-w-what…?”

James smiles. “I asked you to marry me, baby.”

“You want to marry me?”

“More than anything.”

James slips a folded piece of paper into Steve’s trembling hand.

“What’s this?” Steve fumbles opening the paper but eventually manages to not let a piece of paper outsmart him. “It’s a listing. For a [house](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3c/b0/5b/3cb05b705d19e76199e2a6fb5b87c3b9.jpg).”

“It’s our house. In Rockland.”

“You…You bought us a house? In Rockland?”

“For your strawberry farm.”

“James…” Tears flood his eyes as he can’t take his eyes off the man staring back at him.

James wipes away the moved tears falling down Steve’s face with his thumb. “You going to leave me pins and needles, doll?”

“Y-yes. Yes. I’ll marry you.”

“You sure?”

Steve answers him with a kiss. A hard kiss he pours every ounce of his happiness into. He can feel James smiling against his lips. It makes him smile, too.

He slips his tongue inside James’ mouth when he hears loud, obnoxious cheering over the carousel music:

Behind them stands his family: The Avengers, their wives and kids, Darcy, James’ family, Sharon, Wanda, Hope and her husband, Scott, Wade, and even Nick Fury, who stands quietly with his arms behind his back. He gives Steve an approving nod. Peter and Cooper hold a banner that reads: **CONGRATULATIONS!** James’ sister, Becca, holds up a sign that says: **ABOUT DAMN TIME!** Darcy, Wade, and Wanda set off confetti poppers.

Steve catches Tony whisper something into the cuff of his coat sleeve and suddenly there are fireworks lighting up the night sky over the East River.

Steve is far too overcome with joy. He thinks he’s going to cry again.

“I do good, sweetheart?”

Steve wipes at his wet eyes. “You did amazing.”

∞∞∞

Steve waits for her outside the ladies’ room. He’d look like a creep if it weren’t for The Avengers (and etc.) being the only ones in the restaurant.

The door swings open and Steve steps back to avoid getting hit in the face. She startles at his sudden presence.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. The men’s room is the other door though.” Natasha points to the sign on the men’s room door.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Okay. You alright?”

“Yeah, just… This might not be the best time or place to have this conversation, but I’ve been meaning to have it for a while with you. And tonight put a lot of things in perspective for me. So, I wanted to talk.”

Natasha gives him a curt nod. She’s trying to maintain a stiff upper lip, but Steve knows she’s really bracing herself.

“I love you, Nat. You really are my sister. My friend. I’ve missed you. I know neither of us have gone anywhere, we’re still in each other’s lives, but it’s felt like we’ve been miles apart for far too long. And that’s my fault for being angry for so long that I made you feel like you don’t know where you stand with me. I’m sorry.”

She’s fighting back tears, looking everywhere but at Steve. She’s trying to will herself to stay composed, but Steve knows she’s cracking.

“I’m sorry that I let my anger make me petty and vindictive with your feelings,” he continues. “You hurt me a lot, and I wanted to hurt you back, but neither of us can go on like this. We can’t play martyr and victim anymore. All it does is hurt more.”

“Agreed.”

She says it so low, so quiet, Steve almost misses it.

“Can we get back to who we were before? With each other? But with more trust?”

“Nat and Steve 2.0,” she says with a small smile.

Steve smiles back. “Yeah.”

“…I don’t see why not.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I think you’ve apologized enough over the last 14 months.”

“Then you forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me.”

And Steve hopes like hell she does.

“Of course, I do, asshole. I’ve missed you, too.”

She slips easily into his arms. They embrace. They hold on tightly to each other, missing this. They haven’t hugged in a while; Steve rejecting any contact Natasha tried to initiate since their fight at Bruce and Betty’s engagement party. No matter her penance, Steve’s stubbornness didn’t allow maturity to develop. Instead, he withdrew from her, physically and emotionally. Not knowing what to do, how to respond, Natasha did the same. They became civil when in one another’s presence, but their spark was dwindling. Steve felt it and it made his heart break. He wanted her back. He wanted them back.

She scratches at his back and pulls out of his arms. There’s a fond smile on her face. One he hasn’t seen in quite some time. Not since she and Matt broke up.

“I’m got proposed to tonight. I’m getting married.”

“I saw that. Fireworks and everything. All the stops for you, Rogers,” she teases.

“I’m going to need you.”

“Anything. You know I’ll be there for whatever you need,” she assures him.

“What if I need a best man?”

“Wilson turn you down,” she jokes.

“No. I didn’t ask him. I only wanted to ask you. Will you be my best man, Nat?”

She’s a deer in headlights. Frozen with wide eyes and mouth agape. Steve’s not so sure she hasn’t completely malfunctioned.

“Nat—”

She hurries into the ladies’ room.

Steve debates if he should go in after her. To check on her. She looked shook a moment ago…

Suddenly, Natasha comes out of the bathroom. Her face is blotchy and red. Eyes puffy and wet and bloodshot. She was crying. Steve’s seen Natasha cried a few times. But never sober or in public.

She quickly fusses with her clothes and hair, poorly trying to hide the millisecond of excitement she allowed herself to feel so openly. “Yes. Yeah, I’ll be your best man.”

“Good. Knew I could count on you, Nat.”

He wraps an arm over her shoulders. She pecks his cheek. They return to the dining room and join their friends at the candlelight table.

[_Le Crème_](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/360358407684025033/?nic=1a&sender=121949239818326480) is a French restaurant in Manhattan. And it’s Steve’s favorite place in all of New York City. Pepper just so happens to be a silent partner with the owner and his cousin. Apparently, she sweet-talked them into opening the place tonight, but only allowing The Avengers to be their customers for the night. As a favor to James.

Steve takes his seat at the center of the table beside James. He leans onto him, putting his head on the brunet’s shoulder.

“Everything alright,” James asks, whispering under the lively, drunken conversations surrounding them.

“Yes.”

“Good. Excited to marry me?”

“Yes,” Steve beams.

“Me, too. What about the house?”

Steve loves the house. “I love the house. But…you didn’t have to buy it on your own. James, I have money. Like lots of money. From S.H.I.E.L.D and backpay from the army. I could’ve paid for it or helped.”

“I know. But I wanted to do this for you. You told my mom I take care of you. Didn’t want to make a liar out of you.”

Steve knows James either spent all his savings or a good chunk of it on the farmhouse upstate. And all for Steve. Steve who he said he can’t live without. Steve who tries every day to be worthy of his love. His patience. His adoration. His honesty. His strength.

And it seems, he might be.

“I really do love you, James.”

He smiles that cocky, teasing grin of his. “How much?”

“To the end of the line. To the very fucking end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in June 2024
> 
> Well, friends, it's been a fantastic journey. I'm proud of this story and how you are, too. Thank you all for your love & support. Means the world. Hope you enjoyed reading this "little" fic just as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 <3 <3  

> 
> I also have a playlist of songs that served as inspiration for this fic. Check it out:  
[Link text](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2BWONBlzyxVf1LVJZxDfJY?si=pzyxErC2T8KEimqV43CSCg)
> 
> HEADS UP!!!: I'LL BE CHANGING THE TITLE OF THIS FIC IN ONE WEEK TO: He's Funny That Way...

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like when people over-tag, but I get why. However, the only additional tags I will be adding will only be in regards to sex or sexual situations that progress as the story moves forward.
> 
> Hope you liked it! :D


End file.
